


For Your Entertainment

by Leafontehwind



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Allison is also a popstar, Bodyguard Derek, Crack, Danny and Jackson were in a boy band together, F/M, Gen, Glam Rock, M/M, Rock Star, glam rock stiles, hopefully good crack, stalkers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-16
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-11-18 19:24:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/564442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leafontehwind/pseuds/Leafontehwind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is a best selling artist of the glam-rock persuasion and has a threatening fan. Intro Derek Hale, bodyguard. Things pretty much progress from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning is the End is the Beginning...

**Author's Note:**

> So. This will wind up being a strange mash up of The Bodyguard, Velvet Goldmine, and Country Strong. Basically, I am trying to write what could be crack in a serious manner. I love this idea so... hopefully someone else does too. Comments are love.
> 
> THANKS!

Thousands of screaming fans. The sheer energy of a crowd. The feel of thousands of people swaying along to chords you produced, hands on the air begging for more; all of this was what came with being an international renowned superstar. It came with pouring your heart and soul into the music. Stiles loved and reveled every minute of it. For years now, he ate, drank, lived, breathed and bled music. It was the only thing in his life that made perfect sense no matter what was going on. It had not been a success that came to him over night, and maybe some people forgot that. It happened. But, it was always those people who forgot about his time as the lead singer of the indie band ‘Slow Kids at Play.’ For several years, they had played every small town bar and venue that would take them, barely making enough to pay for gas let alone actually making enough to cut another demo in a professional studio. They were fresh out of high school and idealistic that they could make it if they kept going with the vision that they had formed. Sadly, people didn’t take you very seriously if all you had was a CD that was clearly recorded on a laptop in a friends garage. Those were hard times. But, hey, they were all way past that now.

Allison, their keyboardist, was the first to leave and make it on her own. She was approached by a producer who had actually been contacted by her mother when they were in San Diego, who subsequently convinced her to leave the band and sign her own contract. She had been dating their lead guitarist and Stiles’ best friend, a best friend who was more like a brother. Her leaving completely broke Scott’s heart, the guy had been inconsolable for days, not performing or even moving much unless absolutely necessary. It wound up being good for her because under the right management of her grandfather, apparently, she went off to become this generation’s Vanessa Carlton. 

After that, Jackson and Danny left to become a pseudo boy band duo. Without their drummer and bassist, Stiles and Scott were left to figure out their next step or drift off into oblivion. For some reason, they reconnected with Lydia Martin. Lydia who had gone to the same school as them but graduated early and went off to college a year before them. She apparently made an impression on a well-to-do producer and was taken in as his little ingenue. Lydia saw something in him, potential. She listened to the backlog of tracks that he had written, helped mold him into something that would sell, something that he could completely embody. 

Because of Lydia, for the last four years he had forgone the whole band thing and was simply known as Stiles. Instead of coming up with a kitchy name, he wanted something simple. Something that was just him. Sure, it was a bit like Cher and Madonna, but he figured those ladies were on to something. And with this new development came a new side of Stiles. He was no longer the awkward teenager trying to figure himself out. His hair was worn quite a bit longer then the usual buzz cut, styled with many products that allowed it to defy gravity if he felt the need for it to. No longer did he wear plaid shirts and well-worn jeans. Sometimes he wore a shirt, something that showed off his slender waist or with several zippers that proved more decorative then actually functional. Mores often than not, he wore nothing. He usually preferred to show off his moderately toned and lean chest with an unhealthy dose of glitter. Instead of loose jeans, skin tight pants encased his legs. He had them in different colors, a decent amount of them had a studded crotch, accentuating it for shock value’s sake. If nothing else, some people’s expressions made it well worth it. Stiles never really claimed to care one way or another about what people thought about him. But, this was different. It sold. He loved the feeling that people didn’t know what he would do next. 

Rolling Stone had once called him the ‘savior that revived and revitalized Glam Rock for the next generation.’ Sure , there were always people who didn’t necessarily like his brand of music or what he stood for, but he was still one of the best selling artists in the world. Some days he still wasn’t entirely sure how he managed to sell so many records by being so provocative. It was in part due to Lydia, since Stiles was fairly certain that she was an evil PR genius. She spun everything the right way, playing on his fluid sexuality, making him utterly desirable to both sexes. Though, for all of this persona that was him, there was also a veil pulled over his true self. A wall that he kept up nearly at all times because you couldn’t be too careful. The only people who really, truly knew him were his father and Scott McCall, former band mate and step-brother extraordinaire. For everyone else, Stiles was constantly performing.

Of course it got lonely, but he made the decisions that got him to this point and he was going to live with it. And he was doing what he loved... that had to count for something right?

Stiles was in the middle of hair and make up, gearing up for the second day of shooting his newest music video ‘For Your Entertainment.’ It was the first single off of his new CD that was due out in a handful of months. He didn’t mind music videos, but he preferred live performances. You could play off of the crowd and use the energy for your performance over lip singing and taking cues from a director. Takes and retakes, they got tiring after a while but it was part of the whole music business. Erica, his make-up artist was in the middle of adding the final touches to his face when Scott came into view just behind him. Since moving would probably screw up the small rhinestones that she was gluing to his face, he simply arched his eyebrows in question to his friend. Scott was smiling nervously. His puppy dog brown eyes were wide as he stood there, clipboard held to his chest. There was something that came along with knowing people for so long, even more for knowing them for most of your life that allowed you to read them better than others. Something was up and it obviously had Scott worried.

He lifted a hand to pat Erica’s waist, signaling her to stop. The movement caused her to sigh as she pressed something near the outer corner of his eye. She was used to the way Stiles let her know he needed a minute, a system they worked out a couple of years ago when he said something, startling her enough that the entire look was ruined and she had to restart the entire thing which had already taken two hours to get to that part. Those hours were something that Stiles would never get back. 

“That’s alright, I was done anyway hot stuff,” Her tone was a little clipped as she stepped backwards to survey her work and nodded. “God am I good. You know you’re lucky to have me, right?” Erica teased as she put her hands on her hips and glanced between Stiles and Scott before rolling her eyes. “I’ll leave you two to it.” 

The singer smiled broadly, “Thanks Cat Woman.” 

Stiles waited a minute, looking over Erica’s handiwork, turning his head from side to side before he spun around in his chair towards his step-brother. “What’s up? TMZ find something else out? Alleged leaked sex tape? Oh, maybe E! has an exclusive that I’m headed fast for a break down a la Britney Spears proportions and I’ve threatened to shave off my magnificent locks. Again.” 

Scott shook his head a faint smile curling his lips for a brief moment before slipping away. “No, uh, you know Ms. Martin would want to talk to you directly about any of that stuff. I...” He turned his head to the side, making sure no one was in ear shot before speaking. It was a good idea given the fact that the set was filled with extras and people that they didn’t know. Even if they signed non-disclosure agreements, people still found a reason to talk even with the threat of being sued. “Another letter came the other day. This time it was sent to your dad’s house.”

He tried not to look worried, but these letters had been coming steadily for months now. At first, the all figured they were harmless. That was before they started getting more intense. Threatening and obsessive. And now, they found out where their parents were living. It was one of the houses Stiles’ bought and gifted it to his dad and Melissa when his first album went platinum. 

“One, you can call him just dad,” he understood that both of them had their hang ups about their parents and he had at least started calling Melissa by her name and occasionally 'mom’ even if it stung a little every time he said it. But he really just wanted them to be as close to a normal family as they could. Their parents deserved their littel slice of happiness. “They’ve been married for, what five years now?" Stiles rolled his eyes for good measure before sobering up. He really couldn't imagine what was in the last letter, all of them had been vaguely haunting before, but dismissable. The fact that whom ever it was had found his father? That was just another level of no. Besides, he did not want to worry his dad anymore than necessary. "And... did he see it?”

Scott just nodded and cut a glance pointedly to the side where a man in a suit was standing. “He called Ms. Martin and they decided to hire another body guard. I know, you have Boyd but this guy apparently is like a total bad ass. I guess your dad knew his family or something, I don’t know.”

The singer tapped his black polished nails on his knee as it bounced absently as he took in the situation. He was not going to be able to talk his dad out of this and since Lydia agreed to hire him- without his consent, mind you- it probably meant that it was in his contract that she could organize his security detail as she saw fit without impeding on his basic rights. That was just great. One hundred and ten percent just fucking peachy. 

Why was it that the more popular he became, the less input he actually had? 

Scott held out Stiles’ iPhone, assuming that he would want to figure a way out of this. If nothing else, to ream Lydia out for at least making him aware or even part of this new little development. Stiles sighed and took the pre-offered phone, keying in the security code before scrolling through his contacts before dialing up his manager.

The phone only rang three times before she picked up, “What does my favorite client want? Is there something wrong with your video shoot? Not enough glitter?”

Stiles had to admit, as much of a pain in the ass that Lydia Martin could be if you got on her bad side, he pretty much loved her. She fought for everything that she could for him and reeled him in when he was pulling what she called a ‘Diva Bitch Fit.’ For some reason, she toed the fine line of appropriate and inappropriate with grace an agility. He had always figured it was her super power. That and being unreasonably awesome. 

“What’s up with the new security detail Lyds?” Stiles drawled, attempting to not sound completely and utterly pissed off, something he prided himself and figured that it meant that he was growing as a person. It was completely a thing. Stiles looked at Scott who was busying himself with scribbling down something or other on his clipboard. Even if his best friend was eaves dropping, at least he had the gall to pretend to do something other than blatantly hang onto every word that was said. “At the very least I could get a heads up, text, e-mail, fancy little telegram. You know, anything other than some guy just showing up all secret service-y on the set. Pretty much anything would be better than that.”

There was a pause, and he could hear a rhythmic clicking sound that told of Lydia typing out an email or something else that was important to her job and basic existence. He knew that he wasn‘t her only client but he also knew that he was her _best_ client, it was always good to know your standing. It helped tell how far someone would bend for you. “Stiles, it’s for you’re own good. Look, just finish the shoot and we’ll talk about this after, okay? I’ll come over for dinner tonight, okay? We’ll mull over all the boring details, sweets. Now, go be incredibly amazing and sexy for the camera so you become even more amazing and famous then you are right now. Okay?”

He sighed, not sparing glance in the suited man’s direction, “Fine. You owe me. And, don’t think I won’t cash in on that. I’ll figure out some amazingly depraved thing you have to do for me Lyds. And don’t think I won’t.”


	2. Strangers in the First Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the video shoot, Stiles heads home and has a revelation about the sheer gravity of the situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter but I wanted to post before I went to work since the last one wasn't very long either. BUT! There's Isaac. And I love Isaac, so very much. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this little tidbit and feel free to let me know your thoughts :)

After the video shoot, Stiles was exhausted. Something he could feel down in his bones. He had asked Scott to ask their parents over for dinner, figuring it would be easier if they were all together to discuss the new addition to security and just to catch up. He wanted to see as much of them as he could before he went on tour in the fall and maybe, just maybe, this was a little bit of an excuse.

On the ride back to his house, mansion really, he allowed his eyes to drift close and the hum of the limo to guide him to sleep. Normally he would take this time with a new security member to play twenty questions and figure out if he even liked the guy as a person, but, he was just too tired to bother at the moment. As he drifted off, Stiles didn’t realize he slid down in his seat, head resting against the brick wall of a man he hadn’t even been properly introduced to. Normally, he would care, would maybe pull this with Scott or Boyd and not a complete stranger, but fourteen hours of shooting did that to a person. Maybe he’d apologize later. Maybe. 

Stiles woke up as he was being gently shifted upright so he was resting back against the headrest. “Wha-” And, okay. He wasn’t the most eloquent after waking up, sometimes he felt like he was reverting back to being sixteen and fumbling over everything. It was not a time he really wanted to revisit, having finally actually found out who he really was. He turned his head towards the window and seeing his home to the left he unbuckled and stretched his aching and tired limbs. 

However, when he made a move to shift towards the open door, the bodyguard’s hand rested on his upper arm. No one that was employed for him for less than a day actually touched him, let alone felt comfortable doing it without knowing if _Stiles_ was comfortable with it. 

“I’m going to do a quick sweep of the house. Mr. Boyd will be outside the car,” And, with that the guy shut the door behind him. But, why were they doing a sweep of his house? They were just a bunch of letters not like... Holy fucking shit. Was someone in his house? That would more then explain the severity of the situation. Someone would have told him if something happened with Isaac, right? Fuck. 

He was not going to stay in the car through all of this, if someone was on his property, they would deal with it after. Stiles climbed out of the car and shot Boyd a look and, honestly the look on the guy’s face would have been pretty damn amusing in any other situation. He didn’t offer the man any explanation, knowing that if nothing else, he would just follow him anyway, like he always had.

Stiles stalked towards the house, eyes wide as he looked around. Once inside, he noticed a few things out of place, things that wouldn’t be noticed unless you knew where they were originally. His heart was hammering within his chest and he was about to call out when a rugrat came careening around the corner and threw his arms around Stiles’ waist. Thank God or Buddah or whatever the hell. 

Reaching down to wrap his arms around his adoptive son, Stiles allowed his eyes to close briefly. He had adopted Isaac around the same time he had just started making it really big, his father had told him on the phone one night about the case about a kid from their home town, back when he was still sheriff. Isaac’s dad was a piece of work, a raging asshole if he ever heard of one. He abused the kid, taking him to the basement for some sick and twisted sort of discipline that at it’s worst meant locking the kid in an old freezer for days. Isaac had only been five at the time and Stiles used his money and name to get him out of there. It took Isaac a while to warm up to him, but when he came around, he trusted Stiles implicitly. Stiles was sure that he couldn’t love his own blood and flesh son more. Isaac was just full of love. He couldn’t imagine how fucked up the kid’s real dad had to have been to do all of that to him. 

“Hey buddy. You miss me?” Stiles ran his hand through Isaac’s curls, finally allowing his eyes to open and they landed right on his new bodyguard who looked royally pissed. Stiles took this moment to look at him, really look at him. He was probably the same height as he was, if not an inch or two shorter. Ink black hair gelled up in a way that might make someone thing twice about him being part of security, because, really, it was incredibly style-ish. And, now that he looked at him, the guy could really fill out his suit. He was more of a GQ model, not really a boring blend into the crowd security. That alone made Stiles wonder about his past jobs and how well he performed them when people were probably drooling over him.

He felt Isaac pull back which drew his attention away from the bodyguard, “Finny and I made igloos! He got a little mad that mine was better then his but then we watched The Brave Little Toaster and he got better.” 

Stiles smiled down broadly at the kid, “That’s good. I’ll have to talk to Finny about being a spoilsport. Remind him that it’s not his fault you’re awesome.” He would honestly be okay if he never had to leave the house with this kid waiting for him. Isaac was only eight years old, and there were not many years of this before he turned into a surly teenager. 

After that, Isaac ran off toward the living room that was set up with all his stuff where the nanny was presumably waiting for him. Stiles crossed his arms about him and leveled his gaze at the suit clad man across from him. “So...” He wasn’t sure where to begin, royally pissed off if they all knew that some crazy asshole was in his house and no one told him. 

Luckily enough for him, said bodyguard spoke up before he had a chance to formulate anything, “I told you to wait.”

Seriously? That was what the guy was going with? He was well aware that he was employed by Stiles, right? He rolled his eyes, “I guess I’m not great at following directions, the sooner you learn that, the easier your life will be.” He wasn’t going to cut the guy any slack, if he just told him what was going on, things probably would have gone more smoothly. And, not to mention, that he could have arranged for someone to take Isaac out of his house, maybe his dad would have taken him in. Really, sure, his safety was important but so was the safety of his son. Hell, more so. Stiles would take a bullet for Isaac, it really wasn’t rocket science.

Stiles would swear that he heard a huff of annoyance from the other man as he moved to walk down the hall to his left, causing Stiles to call out after him. “Mind at least telling me your name? That way I at least have a name to curse when I’m bitching about you later?”

The GQ model didn’t even pause as he went, “Derek.”

Okay, Derek. At least now he had a name to go off of. Stiles shook his head before heading towards the kitchen to tell Alan how many people would be expected for dinner. He could have had someone else do it, but he liked Alan, probably more than Scott did and he was the one who had found him. Sometimes it added a personal touch to do things himself.


	3. We've Got a Big Mess on Our Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re,” Isaac turned his head, looking toward his adoptive father for support before glancing up at the imposing statue of a man. “You’re the bodyguard, aren’t you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long for me to update, I've been trying to work on my two Teen Wolf series and writing original works-- either way!! I'm working on the next part of this right now so I hope it will be soon for another update. Feel free to leave comments to let me know your thoughts and all.
> 
> :-D

After he was informed that the house was ‘secure,’ Stiles went up to his master bedroom and changed out of his day clothes. Even if he was only going to a video shoot, he still had to look like his glam-rock alter ego. He stripped down out of the black pencil jeans and embellished deep v-neck blue shirt and placed the several rings and his necklace on top of his dresser. The musician moved to his walk in closet and sighed, sparing one last glance at the dresser behind him before going in to pick something out for the night. Normally, he would just wear something simpler, more along the lines of a t-shirt and a comfortable pair of sweat pants, but with Lydia and his parents coming for dinner, he had to at least make a least a little effort. Stiles was exhausted and really freaking hoped that they could explain what in the hell was going on quickly and succinctly, eat dinner and everyone would be on their merry way. Or, ways. Whatever.

He settled on a pair of plain black dress pants and a red button down shirt. It was simple but still was miles above his lounge wear. Once he was dressed, Stiles went into the bathroom and cursed under his breath. In his eagerness to leave the shoot, he had forgotten to clean his face. Reaching for the small white tub, he pulled out several makeup remover wipes and began alleviating his skin of the copious amounts of makeup that Erica had used during the shoot. Stiles really didn’t mind the makeup, at all, but when he was in the confines of his own house, he just wanted to be himself as much as humanly possible. Though, he had to admit that it was vaguely amusing that Isaac never thought anything about his makeup or insane outfits. Even without explanation, the kid just accepted his adoptive father as he was. Stiles knew it was a bit of a blessing, knowing that it wasn’t a lesson he had to visit about teaching his son to be accepting of other people. Still, he sometimes wished it was something that he could instill in his son and take credit for. That being said, he was glad that it was just part of who Isaac was.

Once he was free of makeup, Stiles smiled at his reflection half-heartedly before moving to leave his room and head downstairs. While he walked down the stairs, he could hear the faint hum of the television, a telltale sign of where his son was. The volume was too low for him to actually tell what was playing. He really wished that he could spend the rest of the night stretched out on the couch watching movies with Isaac instead of entertaining the idea of a seriously deranged fan. But, really, what could you do? It wasn’t like he could let this go on for a few days, he wanted answers pretty much immediately. If there was anything that was being kept from him, he really and truly needed to know.

Stiles stopped in the doorway of the living room, a faint smile pulling at his lips. Isaac was facing away from the television, eyes wide as he stared at his nanny as he animatedly argued about The Avengers cartoon show that was playing on the screen. 

“But Iron Man is the best Avenger ever!” The eight year old gestured to the screen as the aforementioned superhero came into view. Stiles had heard arguments like this before and he always liked that Isaac didn’t hold back on talking about things like this. There was once an entire _serious_ discussion about which Disney prince was the best, which clearly was Aladdin according to Isaac. “He created his own suit and the weapons... and... everything!” Isaac crossed his arms about his chest, glaring at the spikey haired nanny that was resting on the couch

"No, just... No," Finstock, the ink-y haired man shook his was vehemently , apparently thinking it was a-okay to argue with an eight year old about superheroes. Stiles had to admit, even if the man was a little rough around the edges, he had a certain charm around him. Isaac liked him because he didn't baby him and after going through four nannies, Isaac's seal of approval was all Stiles needed to keep the strange man. "Iron Man doesn't have any real superpowers, without his suit what does he got? Nothing, well aside from a drinking problem. It's Captain America or Thor all the way. Hands down."

Isaac threw his hands in the air in frustration, clearly in disagreement with his nanny. "They're cool too but they're not as smart as Iron Man. If they were normal, like Iron Man, they wouldn't have anything to help them save the world! At least Iron Man has the suit _and_ his brain."

Sensing a possible meltdown, Stiles was just about to interfere in the conversation and stop the fight when the doorbell chimed rhythmically behind him. He didn’t employ a butler or anything like that, he liked to pretend he was at least somewhat grounded still, so he pushed himself off of the doorframe and began towards the foyer. As he was nearly there, a hand shot out without warning, nearly scaring Stiles out of his skin because he didn’t know that anyone was actually there. Derek’s hand landed in the center of his chest, stopping his forward momentum to a graceless stop.

Gaping at the man, he gestured to the door indignantly. He was far too tired for all of this, even if it was well mean... and what he was paying the guy to do. “I’m sure it’s perfectly save for me to answer my own freaking front door. Stan minds the intercom and wouldn’t let anyone in who didn’t have an express invitation. I’m not sure what you think is going on here, but we don’t have signs at the gate that say welcome all who want to harm a multi-million dollar recording artist.” And, okay. Maybe he was being a little unreasonable but Derek could have used some words instead of just throwing his arm out in front of him. Seriously.

“I should get it,” Derek’s eyes cut towards the door, as if working something through his head and then gave an imperceptible nod. Hell, it seemed like it was too much work for him to have to explain what he wanted or was supposed to be doing since it seemed like Stiles just wasn’t going to listen to him at all. And that was just once so far that he didn’t listen to the guy; that was just entering his _own_ house. It was understandable. It wasn’t like they were going into paparazzi territory or something. “Make sure there are no threats.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and shook his head. He knew that something was up, that there was a situation that warranted a bodyguard but it didn’t mean that he needed to be guarded in his own house, right? It was possible that no one broke in, and that whatever threats the fan had previously made, he or she was just talking a big game-- it happened all the time. That being said, Stiles wondered if everyone had just been blowing this all way out of proportion. It certainly was a possibility.

“Listen,” Stiles placed a hand on his hip, leveling the man with an even stare. “My family is coming over for dinner, along with my manager, you know, the woman who hired you. They’re kind of expected and I’m not even going to begin contemplating letting them be greeted at the door by a bodyguard. Miss Manners would not approve.”

After wagging a finger warningly at the bodyguard, Stiles sidestepped around Derek’s arm, continuing toward the door. Yanking the door open, the musician glanced back toward the looming figure that stood not five feet away from him. “If you want and it will make you feel better, you can frisk them. Though, I only think one of them will actually completely and totally welcome it."

The bodyguard stood stock still. A muscle jumped in his jaw but other than that, there was nothing. No comment, no blowing up or snide comment-- zilch, nada. Maybe that just meant that this was a small victory for him. Stiles 1, Bodyguard Derek 0.

He angled himself to the now open door, brandishing an ear-to-ear smile for Lydia, his father and his step-mother, Melissa. His manager was typing something away on her phone in a meticulous and nearly furious fashion for a good thirty seconds before she pocketed the device. “What was that about frisking?”

 

~*~*~

After the initial greetings, Melissa took Isaac back into the living room relieving the nanny of his duties so he could retire for the evening. Finstock sometimes stayed over but he left to go home whenever he could, claiming that even though this was a great job, he still needed to get out in the world and hopefully find his lady counterpart. Okay, those weren’t his exact words, when Isaac was out of hearing range, he tended to use more colorful language. 

"So,"Stiles crossed his arms and leaned back against his mahogany desk in the den. It served as an office he rarely used, well, unless his lawyer or accountant needed him to read over something. Otherwise, it was far too stuffy for him. He liked it objectively, the old fashioned feel of it but it just wasn’t really _him_. And it definitely wouldn't work for anything creative like writing new lyrics or anything like that. "Who's going to tell me what the freaking hell is going on?"

His dad practically threw himself down onto one of the chairs, looking nearly as exhausted as Stiles had seen him back when he was working on a particularly long case as the sheriff back home. Clearly, either he was just plain worried about his son’s well-being or there was much, much more to this situation.

 

Opposite John, Lydia perched herself on the other leather chair. She always managed to look poised no matter what her surroundings were and never, ever showed herself to be uncomfortable. There was a certain amount of charm in Lydia Martin that Stiles always appreciated and even loved a little bit. It was why he kept her has his manager; well, that and she was a freaking genius at all of this. He would not have gotten this far without her helming his rise to fame.

She cleared her throat. “Just an intense fan. The bodyguard,” Lydia made a vague gesture towards Derek, “Is just a precaution to playcate the lawyers and any investors for your next tour. Not to mention for your safety, of course.”

Derek made a derisive noise from where he stood with his arms crossed about his massive chest. "I'm not protecting him if he doesn't know the truth." The bodyguard dropped his arms and took a few steps, halting less than half a foot away from the backs of John and Lydia's chairs. "I won't tell you how to handle this situation, but I've handled jobs where the client doesn't know the real danger, they never end well."

Okay, what the hell did he mean by ‘real danger’? He knew there could be more, or at least a particularly evil letter that had more gory details. But... what else could there be? Stiles lifted a hand to his lips and began chewing on his otherwise perfectly manicured nails. It was an old nervous habit that he had developed in his early teens; he always had a bit of an oral fixation. "Okay, so aside from the handful of letters, what else has there been?"

Lydia let out a sigh and pulled out her phone and quickly pressed a few buttons before pressing it to her ear. "I need the lockbox from under my desk... Yes. That one. Deliver it to my house tomorrow morning. And tell Mr. Hale that I took it." After ending the call, she let out a sigh. For a moment, Lydia almost looked worried. It was only a flash of emotion that ripped across her beautiful features before it was replaced with a tight lipped smile. "We didn't want to worry you with everything you have going on right now. The letters have been coming in more frequently, along with threats, voice recordings and even a couple of DVDs with depictions of you... Well, lets just say they're not for the faint of heart."

"And," the bodyguard ground out, sounding annoyed and vaguely angry that something was left out of the short explanation. Stiles’ eyes met Derek’s questioningly. But, it seemed that he wanted Lydia to tell him all of the information that was being withheld from him. It was vaguely annoying but at the same time, at least he wanted Stiles to know everything. That was something at least.

"I know about the letter to my dads," the singers eyes cut to his father but his expression said it all. His expression was grave and, fuck, worried. Usually, his father would give it to him straight, supply the information in such a way that was akin to pulling off a bandaid. But, if he felt that it was possibly better that he was left unawares? Well, that really just hit him over the head with the sheer gravity of the situation. Fully and totally. "But there's more?"

"Yes," Lydia was busy fixing Derek with a withering glare, clearly not amused that he was pushing them to lay all of their cards on the table. "There was someone in your house. Your bedroom, specifically. The only reason we know it was your bedroom was because of the video."

So, his momentary freak out when they arrived back home earlier was accurate. Really accurate. The bodyguard wasn't just being incredibly thorough at his job, there was a possibility of an honest to goodness _actual_ threat. And they all thought it was best to leave him in the dark? Well, everybody except Derek.

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck before running his fingers through his hair, a quick attempt to reign in his anger but... It was no use. He was flummoxed at the entire fucking situation. "Okay. Okay, so there was a possibly homicidal psychopath who is obsessed with me in my house where Isaac is most of the time when he isn't at school... And no one thought it was a good idea to tell me? Just making sure I have this right because, what the hell?!"

John sighed, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning forward. He knew that they meant well,but, he wasn't a child. He was twenty-six years old. He didn't need things to be fucking sugar coated for him any more, especially where his son was involved and could have been harmed depending on if this particular fan actually wanted to strike out at Isaac. "Son, there was an investigation going on trying to find out who is behind all of this, we just, we didn't want to worry you without having them behind bars... " He shook his head, "I knew we should have just told you."

"It wasn't your call to make," Lydia said quietly in a way that made Stiles wonder if it was her call either, even despite the fact that she was his manager. Her boss? The lawyers? Who the hell had the power to make that sort of decision who wasn't directly involved with either his day to day activities? He could understand Lydia to a point but, anyone else? Screw that.

Letting out a sigh, he nodded. It was okay, it was going to be fine, right? This kind of stuff happened all the time and nothing really happened. People lost interest, they found something or someone else to fixate on. At least now they had hired a bodyguard who hopefully knew what in the hell he was doing and maybe they'd upgrade his father and step-mother's security system; just to be safe. Better use precaution no matter what.

"It doesn't matter who's idea it was to keep me in the dark, okay? Point is now I know. However, I ought to ream you both out for not telling me some creepy stalker douche was in my house. What if something happened to Isaac?" Truth be told, he would probably kick anyone's ass who knew, regardless of if they were related to him or not. And, of course, that would be straight after he found out who the stalker was and stuck them six feet under. No one touched his kid. No one.

The doorbell chimed again, causing Derek to turn his head to the side, eyes darting back toward Stiles and put a hand up as if urging him to stay put. "I'll get it."

He nodded by way of thanks; not that there was anyway he could stop the man. It was more for appearances sake, even if it was a ruse, he wanted to at least feel like he still had some control-- even if it was something so small. Stiles figured it would be pointless to argue about the etiquette of answering his own door especially in light of recent information.

"That's probably Scott," Stiles pushed off the desk in a languid movement and slid his hands into his pockets, needing to do something with them before he started nervously tapping them on his thighs. "We should get dinner going. It’s getting late and I promised Isaac some quality time so we can’t put it off too much longer.” Maybe he’d get his parents to stay if they were up to playing a round of Pictionary or something, if nothing else, Isaac would love it.The kid was still a little skittish sometimes around his father, Stiles figured that it was only because of how involved John was with Isaac’s case when he was sheriff.

“If you can spare time tomorrow Lydia, we need to go over my next few appearances." He wasn't sure if he wanted to know what was in that box that she kept locked in her office, he assumed it was some of the particular fan's mail, hopefully the more tame things that they hadn't turned over to the police, or copies... He didn't want to bring it up.

 

Within less than ten minutes, they were all sitting around the dining table. There was a considerable mood shift from the office. Everyone was smiling and conversing, eying the lovely spread of food that his cook had prepared for them. Stiles loved what he did for a living, he breathed in every second of it. That being said, he also lived for moments like this. Surrounded by family and friends and enjoying a simple meal. Well, not necessarily simple since Deaton never made anything that was subpar or simple by any means. Still, it was nice to do something that had nothing to do with his career especially since it seemed like it was taking up more and more of his time. Granted it was a good sign that things were still taking off, that he was still in demand, but sometimes, sometimes he wanted to take a break. Or, at the very least just slow things down for even a week or two. He was beginning to feel burnt out.

Isaac tapped him on the arm, pulling him from his reverie, “Yeah buddy?” Stiles asked before taking a small sip of his Riesling.

“Who is that guy and why isn’t he eating with us?” His son was pointed over towards Derek who was standing in the corner. Well, not exactly standing, that wasn’t really the right word for it. Maybe a more accurate word was 'looming.’ Stiles contemplated the man for a few seconds, noticing how his eyes flicked over everyone at the table calculatingly, never missing a beat, as if he were gauging their threat levels right at that moment. Maybe he knew some statistic that there was a certain percent of attacks or obsessions happened to be someone you know, someone close to you. If that was what the guy was doing, he was completely off the mark. Unless he was just taking in all of them and making notes. 

Stiles placed his glass back on the table, he never liked to completely sugar coat things for Isaac, and he loathed lying to his adoptive son. He was far too smart to see that. Still, the singer couldn‘t exactly see telling an eight year old that his father had a stalker that may or may not be dangerous and the broody guy over in the corner was hired to make sure the threats didn‘t become true acts. “He’s going to make sure nothing happens to me. Sort of like an insurance policy, looking out for me when I don’t realize danger’s coming. And, I’m not sure why he’s not eating with us.”

Isaac made a small humming sound, tilting his head to the side before pushing back his chair and walking over to the bodyguard with a certain amount of surety that only came from being a kid. Isaac tucked his hands into his pockets as he stopped just in front of Derek. “Excuse me, sir.”

His head was turned to the side looking out of the dining room and down the adjoining hall when he heard Isaac speak. Derek’s eyebrows arched questioningly as he turned and lowered his gaze to the child before him. “Yes?”

“You’re,” Isaac turned his head, looking toward his adoptive father for support before glancing up at the imposing statue of a man. “You’re the bodyguard, aren’t you?”

There was a beat of silence, Derek cut his eyes towards Stiles, as if asking him silently how to handle this situation. Only getting an amused shrug from the singer, Derek bent down to Isaac‘s height and the corners of his lips tugged upward in a barely there smile. “How do you know?"

Isaac made a noise, rolling his eyes, “I’ve got ears, you know.” There was another pause, the boy glanced back over to the table full of adults, some of which who were trying to make it seem like they weren’t at all watching the exchange though failing to really pull it off. “You’re... You’re joining us for dinner, okay? You can’t protect my dad on an empty stomach.”


	4. Constant Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's an impromptu BBQ because Stiles has a day off and would very much like the company where he tries his hand at a little matchmaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Firstly, I need to apologize for the lack of updates. My computer broke and I had to wait until I could get a new one to update. :(
> 
> Opinions and kudos are always appreciated and any glaring errors are my own because I just needed to post this before my friends and readers stoned me to death.
> 
> Note: I had to break this chapter up into two parts because of length, so there will be another update once I'm finished with the final touches. :D
> 
> <3
> 
>  
> 
> PS:
> 
> MUSIC. Every chapter is a song title. I meant to put this in the other updates, but, better late then never. Right? Sometimes the songs are incredibly relevant to the chapter, other times I just like the title and figure it's fitting. Feel free to leave opinions on the music or even opinions on other music too. I am kind of a music whore, so... I appreciate recc's.
> 
> _'For Your Entertainment'_ by Adam Lambert  
>  _'The Beginning of the end is the Beginning'_ by The Smashing Pumpkins  
>  _'We've got a big mess on our hands'_ by The Academy Is...  
>  _'Strangers in the first place'_ is the title of a Robert Francis album.  
>  _'Constant Conversations'_ By Passion Pit.
> 
> I may start making a playlist on my [tumblr](http://padfootwhore.tumblr.com/), or at least post the songs I've used just for fun.

Not too long after dinner that night, Derek left. Stiles tried not to focus too much on the fact that subsequently, he felt less and less secure in his own house. He shouldn’t feel less safe and less inclined to sleep in his own house due to the lack of the presence of a stranger. Stiles wasn’t entirely sure if it was that he had a calming presence; which he really didn’t, he verged a little on the annoying side. No, definitely not a calming presence. Maybe it was just due to the fact that it was easier knowing that someone was there to take care of him if the threat of danger came. Whatever it was, it was interrupting Stiles’ much needed rest. He knew that he had to allow the bodyguard to make his own decision on the job, protecting him was a huge job with high risks. He had these issues before, granted the situations were incredibly less severe, but people seemed to not be able to cope with the pressure and stress that came with his lifestyle. Which he honestly got that. He really did.

And, yet, even with understanding the situation, he practically wanted to jump up whatever they were offering to pay the guy and triple it. Even if it was just for his own piece of mind. It was a very adult idea to have, a very douche-y idea. Here Stiles was two seconds away from attempting to twist Derek’s arm to be part of his ridiculous life. He did not actually want to do that, no, he was definitely not _actually_ going to do that, even with his exorbitant wealth, he wouldn't dangle money in front of another person’s face just to get what he wanted. And it wasn’t like he asked for psychotic or obsessive fans, something that he begged and pleaded for. It was all just a side effect of fame. And, to an extent, he was okay with that. There was a level of crazy that he would like to have as a cut off mark, not someone who was threatening his life and sneaking into his house. 

All of those things considered, he also didn’t want to go to Danny’s club opening without a well seasoned bodyguard. That wasn’t really something that sat well with him at all. Nope, not even a little bit.

He could not flake out on it or anything, this was a big deal for Danny. Ever since Jackson launched his modeling career, he was slowly tapering off his involvement in their music. They only had the last legs of the tour to perform and then Jackson was completely out. Moving to Milan or something. Danny took it as he took nearly everything; he knew that it was something that Jackson wanted to do and was a good friend and freaking supported him. So, instead of going solo on his own, he decided to find a new niche. It made sense for him to run a club. With his connections in the music world, and generally being a people person, he was bound to do pretty well. It helped that Danny was pretty much liked by everyone. Seriously, Stiles never met someone who _didn’t_ like the guy. He was just several different levels of awesome.

Stiles going to the opening would be good not only for Danny’s business, but to support his friend. It sucked that he had to find something else, a new dream to pursue. But, it was really interesting that he had decided to go this route. And, needless to say, it was not easy opening a club. He knew that from the few lunches that he had with him, discussing the happenings of his business venture. And, really, start up capital alone sounded, well, for lack of a better word, like a bitch. Then, there was finding a location, designing the club and getting all your licenses in order... It sounded like it could be a nightmare. Either way, Stiles would help in any way he possibly could. It was a pretty well known fact that he would do nearly anything for the people he cared about. Maybe it was a bit of a weakness, but he really didn't see it as such. He knew that they would do the same for him. Even if they didn't, he wouldn't hold it against them. That was what unconditional love was, even where friendship was concerned.

Even setting aside the club opening, what was worse was that he was jumping at shadows. In his own bedroom. During the night, after everyone went their separate ways and Isaac was safely tucked into his bed, Stiles couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going to go horribly wrong. It was understandable considering the information he had been blindsided with earlier, still, he didn’t expect it to effect him this much. It wasn’t like he had been attacked or anything. And, despite the fact that he was exhausted, bone tired was a more accurate phrase, he could not keep his eyes closed for more than a minute. Every single time he began to drift off, he heard creaks in the floorboards that immediately convinced him that there was a phantom in his room. Someone there who was going to loom over him and suffocate him or stab him numerous times. Stiles wasn’t a nervous person, or at least he hadn’t really been one since high school. With visits to a psychiatrist, he had thought that he had worked past some of his anxiety. Maybe he had instead buried it, not actually gotten over it. 

Needless to say, when daylight crept up upon him, he felt like a basket case.

Given the night he had, it wasn’t all that surprising that he found himself sitting at the island in the kitchen, biting his nails. His eyes stared blankly at the coffee pot, waiting for it to brew not five feet away from him. It wouldn’t be prudent to go back to sleep now, even if it was to catch up on some sleep-- if it were even possible. Especially given that today was one of his few days that had nothing planned. It was one of the few days that he had all to himself, no micro-managing, no events or interviews. These were always the days that Stiles promised Isaac that no matter what was going on, he wouldn’t do anything work related. Even if he was only eight years old, it wasn’t something that the kid forgot. Even if he did, Stiles wouldn’t go back on his word. Especially where his son was concerned.

He picked up his phone, not really wanting to be home virtually alone given the circumstances, and typed out a mass text to his friends and family. He could have an impromptu BBQ for lunch, mask his own insecurity about being in his own house without an entire entourage. Yes. That could be a thing. And, as it was he knew that a good portion of them would say yes, especially the friends he had that worked for or with him; if he had a day off, so did they. Sure, it probably was a little selfish to ask them to come over when they probably wanted a day of virtually nothing to break up their busy and hectic lives.... But, Stiles didn’t mind admitting that he was perfectly okay with being selfish from time to time. Hey, he was only human. Everyone was selfish every now and again, so sue him.

After pouring himself a large mug of coffee, he started making a shopping list for Deaton. The guy was a great chef but grilling, that was Stiles’ thing. Still, sides needed to be made and he knew that Deaton actually preferred to do all of the grocery shopping. The man had weird preferences on brand names that Stiles never really put much thought into, but, hey, the guy was pretty much magic in the kitchen so he wasn’t going to ever lean into him about having standards on which ingredients he used in recipes; to each their own. 

Stiles finished and placed the pen on the pad of paper. Lifting his arms above his head, he attempted to relieve some of the tension in his shoulders, joints popping and aching from the movement. He was definitely going to have to take a hot shower later. Maybe a soak tonight would help. 

He was in the middle of dreaming of a long bath when Isaac stumbled into the kitchen. He was rubbing his eyes trying to remove the last embers of sleep that were still desperately clinging there. When he spotted his dad he made a b-line towards him, arms reaching out to be picked up. Stiles smiled fondly, obliging his son and pulled him onto his lap. He ran a hand through Isaac’s wild curls while his other hand rubbed up and down his back in a soothing manner. He loved mornings like this. The ones where he spent a good half hour with a sleepy kid curled against his chest. Stiles knew that there weren’t a lot more years left of this and even with his busy schedule, he still tried to make sure he wasn’t missing too much. 

“Morning buddy," He mumbled into Isaac’s hair as he bent to place a kiss on the crown of his head. “We’re gonna have a BBQ today, doesn’t that sound awesome?"

~*~

It was just after eleven when Allison showed up. He only knew that she was in town from Lydia, usually he only knew if someone had spotted her or if he received one of the few and far between texts from her. It wasn't as if he still held a grudge against her for leaving their band years ago, that was pretty much ancient history. Or, water under the bridge. Whatever. The only thing that he did _not_ like about Allison was the way that she had left things with Scott. The guy was still in love with her after all this time and it was pretty depressing that he never really moved on. It wasn't the case that Scott had spent the last handful of years pining after her, glancing over old photographs of them from high school. He had _tried_ to get back on the horse and date. Hell, Stiles even set him up on a few dates himself. Pretty much ordered that the guy at least _try_ to get out there. He knew that the reason that none of them ever worked out was because he always compared them to Allison. It was his first epic love and some people never got past that. Stiles got that and it was pretty much why he invited her over any time he could just to attempt to play matchmaker and get the pair of them back together. 

Sure, it was obvious to pretty much everyone, but he had to try for his best friend. 

Stiles was in the kitchen with Isaac finishing off mixing the batter for cookies when she strolled on in with a warm smile. He had seen her at events and in passing, but he still had to admit that she looked good. She was still thin as ever, her hair cut was different, shorter then she had worn it in high school. It was nice, it suited her. She was wearing a pair of skin tight jeans with brown boots and a simple white tank top. It was nice seeing her not in a designer outfit, he always thought that she looked prettier when she was dressed like this. Maybe it reminded him of when they were just kids trying to make it in the business. Jeeze, what if everyone else thought that about him when he was glammed out. Oh well. -

“Hi Auntie Aly,” Isaac called out to her, not moving away from the mixing bowl that he was pouring chocolate chips into. It was good that he didn't go running towards her for a hug since his hands were covered in flour and that would totally ruin her outfit if he attempted to give her a hug. Then again, Isaac was usually really thorough about not making a mess so he probably would have washed his hands first. The kids manners were pretty insane. “You look very pretty today.”

“Thanks handsome,” She said after letting out a lilting laugh and dropped her purse on the other end of the counter. Allison made her way around the counter, dropping a kiss on the top of Isaac's head before moving to press a kiss to the side of Stiles' cheek. 

“Hey,” Stiles flashed her a smile and cheated himself to the side so he could talk to her and still work on the cookies. It felt less rude to mutli-task when he could actually see her while they held a conversation. He kind of wished that she hadn't been the first one to show up, but Stiles also thought he was better at small talk now. Certainly better then he was back when they were in a band together. The few little interviews they had back then, man, he sounded like such a bumbling loser. Well, at least that was his own possibly self-deprecating opinion. Plus, it was Allison. He could do this. “I’m glad you could make it. I know you’re pretty busy and all.”

"Look who's talking," Allison rolled her eyes, patting Stiles on the shoulder. “I always make time for you guys.” Which, was true. She had even stopped by his dad’s house two Christmas’ ago when Stiles hadn’t actually thought she would. Apparently, there was some drama going on with her family that she didn’t really have the heart to deal with and his standing invitation was pretty much a godsend. He also liked to think that she would have stopped by anyway, even if he was wrong, that’s what he was going with. “I really appreciate the invites, Stiles. Really. I do.”

“Well, that’s good to hear. Then they’ll keep on coming.” He hoped that if there was anyone else who tried to keep their group tethered together as much as he still attempted to, that they would still invite him no matter what. It was their thing, or something. “We’re just going to pop these in the oven then we can go outside and wait for everyone else to show up.”

Isaac let out a sigh, shaking his head, “Dad,” he leaned closer to Stiles, tugging on the corner of his apron. “You’re _supposed_ to offer her a drink.”

Wait, what? His kid was appalled at _his_ manners? Stiles’ jaw dropped and he openly gaped at his son for a moment or two. Hautily, he placed a hand on his hip and leaned closer to Isaac. “Well buddy, you’re also one of the hosts so, why don’t you offer her a drink, hm?”

Sighing once again, Isaac slid off of the stool to wash his hands in the sink. After a moment he came back, arms crossed. “Auntie Aly, would you like a beverage? We have tea, lemonade, Mountain Dew and beer. Oh, and water. And there’s wine in the basement too. If you want that.”

Allison looked contemplative for a moment, tapping a finger against her chin as she mulled over her choices. “I’ll have tea. But only if its your special blueberry tea. You always make it just right.” Stiles smiled fondly as he spooned the cookie dough onto the baking sheets. Alison always drank Isaac’s tea, it was adorable how proud of it he was. They went through this entire kick last year of making different kinds of tea, adding fresh fruit to the glasses to make it look fancy. 

~_~

Over the next hour, everyone else invited milled in and everything seemed to be going smoothly. Though, there was the awkward moment when Scott showed up only a little after Allison and it was just the four of them. It really didn't help matters when Scott literally skidded to a stop, his eyes going wide in shock. Okay, maybe Stiles could have given him a heads up, but... then again, maybe he was a little evil sometimes because the look on his face was hilarious. They shared a brief hug and started conversing, though the tension dropped more when Boyd followed Erica onto the patio. With each person that showed up, it seemed easier for the ex-couple to act normal, to get back in the swing of things.

Once his father and Melissa arrived, closing out the tail end of his impromptu guests, Stiles went over to the grill and started cooking. He had Deaton pick up the works, knowing what everyone liked made it pretty easy to throw together a lunch. Veggie burgers for Lydia (who had gone vegetarian at some point during her ascent of the corporate PR ladder), steaks and burgers for pretty much everyone else and hot dogs for Isaac. The chef was inside whipping together salad (both normal and pasta), and french fries. It wasn’t sophisticated or fancy by any means, but it was normal and simple could be nice every once in a while. 

“Hey Scott, can I get a hand for a minute?” He called over his shoulder at his friend, eying two burgers that were nearly finished cooking. His plan for matchmaking was pretty simple, get them around each other enough so that they can realize how much they make sense together and boom. Instant rekindled romance. It wasn’t really a perfect recipe. Though, it worked with his dad and it seemed to be working with Boyd and Erica, seeing as how they never seemed to leave each other’s side when they were together. 

His friend came over a minute later, glancing behind him to where Allison was perched on a chair at the table, listening to Lydia. Presumably Lydia was giving her the run down about how her boss is a complete jackass and grudgingly admitting that he was brilliant despite his glaring flaws. Stiles took the burger off the grill and slid them onto two of the already opened buns that rested on the other side of the grill stand. “Want to give one of these to Allison then bring her to the kitchen to get some of the sides? I’m sure Deaton’s just about done with them. Figured she’s more of a guest than any of the rest of you so she gets first crack at the food.” He put down the spatula before picking up the plates and handing them off to Scott. “Think you can handle that?”

His friend looked down at the plates in his hands before looking up at Stiles, nodding slightly before setting his shoulders. “Yeah. Okay, great." Scott shifted his feet for a moment, leaning his head forward and dropping his voice to ensure that no one else would hear him. "Next time though, let me know when she’s coming. I would’ve worn something better.” A frown was tugging at Scott’s lips as he held the plates out to the side and glanced down at his faded blue jeans and red t-shirt. It was different from what he wore to work, since Lydia had cornered him one time about how poorly it reflected Stiles if his assistant whatever (her words) turned up everywhere looking like a frat guy. Which, that was pretty harsh even if it held just the glimmer of truth. Scott didn’t look like enough of a douche to be a 'yeah dude.'

“You look fine buddy. Seriously. You look great, I’d tap that if that wouldn't weird on so many levels,” He nudged Scott with his elbow flashing him a broad smile before he grabbed the tongs to turn the steak over. Sure, he never thought of Scott like that. That was just weird. Objectively, he did know and realized that his friend was attractive as well as a total catch. Any woman would be lucky to have him. His sights were set on Allison and that's why Stiles was oh-so-subtly trying for the assist. Stiles refrained from quoting the Genie from Aladdin and telling Scott to ‘ _just bee himself_.’ Sometimes he could keep his quoting to a minimum. Well, rarely not really sometimes, but it was really the effort that counted, right? “Don’t sweat it.” 

It took about twenty more minutes of Stiles calling out to certain people that their food was ready before everyone was seated around a large glass table. It was a nice enough day that Stiles didn’t even bother to put the umbrella up for some shade. He had sat himself next across from Isaac and his dad, who was stealing a few fries with a sly smirk that showed that he knew that he was going to get away with it. Stiles simply rolled his eyes and dug into his burger, figuring that it was okay to let him cheat every so often. That and he knew that he was in good hands with Melissa to keep an eye on him the rest of the time.

He was in the middle of his second bite when Erica leaned over to whisper in his ear. “I’m onto you. I know what you’re doing Stilinski.”

Raising his eyebrows into a high arch, he finished chewing his food and made a gesture with his hand. “Yeah? And what’s that?” 

Erica turned her head to the side and nodded in Scott and Allison’s direction. Their heads were bowed together as they spoke in hushed tones that no one else could really hear. Maybe his plan was working. If they didn’t make plans after today, maybe Stiles would borrow Scott’s phone and shoot Allison off a text to get them talking. It was possibly a step too far but Stiles didn’t really do things half way.

After a moment he turned back towards the make-up artist and flashed a toothless smile, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just invited some of my favorite people over for lunch. I confess to nothing. No ulterior motive or anything. Nope.”

The woman rolled her eyes before patting him on the shoulder, “At least it’s nice to know that you have a hobby.”

“Hey, other musicians have horrible hobbies which include snorting something or shooting up,” Stiles paused to take a sip of his beer, glancing at Boyd who was on the other side of Erica for support or confirmation. Though, all the guy did was allow his lips to twitch in a smile; but, for Boyd that was huge. He had a twenty-four-seven poker face that barely ever wavered. “If my hobby is ensuring the happiness of my nearest and dearest, then I’m perfectly content with that habit.”

Erica was saved from having to respond or supply any sort of retort when the screen door to the house slid open and Derek walked out onto the deck. The guy looked just as handsome as the day before, or even more so, if that was possible. He ditched the suit jacket, just wearing a pair of black slacks and a white button down shirt. His jaw was set, muscle jumping as he glanced around the yard and locking eyes with Stiles. “I need to talk to you.”

Stiles jaw dropped, he expected maybe a phone call, text or, hell, even an email regarding his impeding professional grade bodyguard. And, how was he even here? He wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood up to close the distance between him and the bodyguard. He would be lying if he said that he wasn’t a little glad to see the guy, even if he was a virtual stranger. He was a professional and even if whatever was going on with the threats he was receiving, having someone there who specialized in dealing with things like this would help him sleep a bit easier. It would help him to focus on other things if he knew that Isaac was being looked out for and that someone else was worrying about his safety as their job. 

“Uh, hi,” He wiped his hands nervously on his pants, glancing back to the table of his friends and family who studiously looked away just as he turned his head. Right, so they were definitely doing that thing where they pretended to feign indifference when they were actually hanging on every word. Why not at least have an audience? “Oh. I didn’t realize you were coming back today. And,” Stiles lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck. “Want some steak or a burger or something? I can grill you up some lunch, I’m pretty great at it. Grilling I mean. There’s also veggie burgers, if that’s more your thing... But, yeah, whatever your preference is.” Stiles finished off the epic ramble of twenty-thirteen with a wide grin.

Derek took a few steps forward until he was only about a foot away from the musician, lips pursed in a tight lipped frown. “Do you realize I didn’t even need to get buzzed in to get onto your property? The gate was open. I parked off the driveway, no one saw my car and then I walked here.” His eyes dropped from their intense locked gaze for the briefest of moments. “The front door isn’t even locked, Mr. Stilinski.”

Right, all business. But the close proximity wasn’t going to ruffle his feathers right now, he had once hosted an award show with Betty White. Man, that woman was handsy and had absolutely no concept of personal space. Though, then again, it was okay because it was _Betty freaking White_. Instead of going on the complete defensive, knowing that it was stupid how lax his security, Stiles just cocked his head to the side. “So... no on the food? All work and no play makes Derek a dull boy."

Or, maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say. He was pretty sure even bodyguards needed to eat, maybe he only had protein shakes and egg whites; things like that to help with maintaining his physique. Derek just continued to stare him down. It was surprising how intimidating it actually was. Sure, the guy was built like a brick shit house, but it wasn’t like he was completely threatening. It really either was a gift or something that Derek had perfected over the years; to be able to stare someone down like that.

“Alright," He let out a sigh and ran his tongue over his lips. “I know we need to change pretty much everything that’s been going on here in terms of keeping up with security, I really do. I very much would like to feel safe and secure in my own home. But, seriously. Lunch? Lunch is good. You can’t protect all of this," Stiles made a sweeping gesture down the length of his body to emphasize his point. “On an empty stomach. And, speaking of which, does that mean you’re taking the job?"

Again, there was no response. If the guy wasn’t up for a job under his employment, he would think that he was debating causing him bodily harm. Apparently, every flaw that they had in their security was Stiles' fault and was definitely something that was just implemented to piss off potential bodyguards. He had left the door unlocked for his guests that was his fault. Stiles would own up to that, but he honestly didn't know that there wasn't anyone actually actively checking the perimeter or even manning the gate. The fact that it was open made it just that much worse. He could understand the bodyguard being aggravated at their lack of attentions to such things. But, still. Maybe that was showing that Stiles really _did_ require Derek’s services. Yeah, he was going to go with that.

But the lack of an _actual_ response from the him was only a little bit grating. Unless... unless that was the point. Not answering because he had already illustrated to Stiles as well as to himself that he actually needed the extra protection, threats aside.

“So, thats a yes?” The singer looked behind him, around at the table full of people who were sitting on his deck for confirmation, except he didn’t get one. All of them were pointedly avoiding his gaze and at least had the swell idea to at least pretend they weren’t hanging on every single word. “That’s totally a yes, isnt it?”


	5. Little Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After lunch happens, Derek settles into Stiles' mansion and there is Hercules and bonding.
> 
> Pretty much the world's worst description ever. Chapter five is just chapter four continued since I had to cut it for length and update posting posterity. (Translation: Just read please lovelies. This is the chapter before things start moving at a less glacial pace.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter comes from the Of Monsters and Men song ' _Little Talks_ '.
> 
> Apologies that this wasn't up sooner, fleshing out bits of this were a bit taxing. I hope in reading it it doesn't show. If it does, I suck. I really just wanted to get to the next part (because of the Derek of it all).
> 
> Any glaring errors are all my own as this is unbeta'd and in my quick attempt at a read through I just kind of said screw it and am hoping for the best.
> 
> Enjoy!

Everyone took their time finishing up their lunch, everyone sharing things about their lives, nothing monumental or intensely important. Just conversing like they had before fame and fortune found them. It was as if no one actually wanted to leave and get back to whatever it was that they were supposed to be doing with their respective days. Stiles had to admit that he actually liked that they were all reluctant to leave. It might have been because they were worried about Stiles or just that they were just having too much fun being just like normal every day people. No agendas or anything that would make the day feel like work; he liked that. He liked seeing them acting like they didn’t have a care in the world. It was nice. It helped him feel grounded.

The bodyguard didn’t take Stiles up on his offer of lunch, he instead decided to stalk around Stiles’ property to find fault in every single line of defense. Stiles was dreading what would happen when the guy was done. Would he go over the issues with him or just take it upon himself to fix everything and keep Stiles in the dark? It’s not that that he _didn’t_ want to know where their weak spots were, it was just that it would probably be alarming to hear just how many things Derek found wrong or faulty with his home. How many things that could go wrong and how, worst case scenarios were one hell of a thing. The singer really did _not_ need another virtually sleepless night. 

Boyd was the first to excuse himself from lunch, pressing a quick kiss to Erica’s cheek before he went off to find the bodyguard. This was definitely one of the reasons why he liked the guy. He took initiative. Sure, even if there were faults in security, he was still going to do his job. No one had to tell him to go and try to help Derek out. No one even mentioned that it would be a good idea to have someone who was familiar with the grounds to go and assist Derek and figure out what changes were going to be made and make sure they weren’t too extreme. Or, on the other hand, make sure that Derek saw the faults that were already evident to someone who already was familiar with it. It was a good idea to share his own experience with the newcomer.

At least that was how Stiles took it. He didn’t always see the best in people, but usually he could see their strengths if he paid attention enough. Boyd was cool, he could stay.

 

The last lingering people from the barbecue were Melissa, his dad, Scott and Allison. His dad and step-mother left first, John pulled Stiles aside by the foyer, leading his son away from any prying ears. Stiles wasn’t really surprised at this, his father had a tendency of doing this every so often. More often than not, when his father did this, there was something relatively important that he wanted to say, or some lesson he wanted to convey to him. Even if Stiles was an adult now, he suspected his father would never really stop looking out for him. It was nice, knowing that he had people in his life who actually cared that much about him. 

“Son,” John clapped a hand on Stiles’ shoulder, his eyes locking straight onto Stiles’ as if he was afraid that if he said this wrong or didn’t make it seem serious that his son would just brush it off. It was his sheriff face, the one he used when talking to a victim and trying to make them trust him. It felt like forever since Stiles had been on the receiving end of this face. “You’ll let me know if you need anything, right? I may not be a sheriff anymore, but I still have connections. I’m not above tapping into them if it keeps my son and grandson out of harms away.”

The musician flashed a broad smile, warmed at the fact that his father was obviously was worried for him; but he didn’t want his dad to think that it was all _that_ bad. Stiles wanted his dad not get himself sick with worry or even wind up giving himself a heart attack over this situation. They were going to deal with it, keep him safe. Hell, wasn’t that what the GQ model of a body guard was working on right at this moment? They were going to take the necessary precautions and everything was going to be fine. 

“Yeah, thanks dad,” He didn’t bother telling his dad not to worry, that he would be fine and they’d get through this. He knew that no matter what he tried to say, his dad would still have that niggling weight of doubt and concern in his gut. “Of course.” Stiles pulled his dad into a tight hug that lasted longer than a minute. When they pulled away, the singer patted the former sheriff on the back. 

He waved as the Stilinski parents drove off, his best friend doing so as well, obviously lingering for a very specific reason. Stiles didn’t mind it, he still didn’t want to be left alone. Sure, he had his own bodyguard somewhere on his property which was a comfort but he wanted to be surrounded by people he _actually_ knew. He turned towards his Scott expectantly.

Scott grinned at Stiles, rubbing his hands together in front of him, as if it was a warm up to what he was going to share. Clearly something good came out of this impromptu lunch and Stiles was ready to congratulate himself for remembering that Allison was in town. Which reminded him, he was going to have to get her one hell of a birthday present this year. Granted, he was probably working against proper etiquette with someone who was working with him, but, Lydia acted more like a friend to him. Hell, she came over for dinner whenever she could. Stiles wondered if she had any friends outside of Stiles’ little group. She had to. She was gorgeous, smart and talented-- people were probably drawn to her because of that.

After maybe thirty seconds of waiting, Scott started talking, his tone was excited and warm. The whole scene gave Stiles a flashback of when they were all back in high school and his best bud told him that he actually got the pretty and already popular girl (despite only being at the school for all of a day) to agree to go out with him. On a date. With him. Really. Stiles remembered painfully about how long Scott rambled on about her, well, everything. He knew that Scott was just excited and he wasn’t going to revert back to the way he was in high school; either wy, he was beginning to wonder if his well intentioned matchmaking wouldn’t come back to bite him on the ass.

“Guess what? We’re going to have coffee!” Shaking his head with a laugh, Scott looked toward the ground then back up at Stiles through his lashes. “I mean, not us, like you and me, but me and Allison. How... how great is that? I mean, I... Do you think it’s a date or, just a friend thing? We have too much. you know, history to be friends, right? Maybe I should have asked her...”

Oh, crap. Well, well if this had not just gone from pining to full on freaking out obsession about their potential date-non-date in sixty seconds or less, Stiles didn’t know what was. He took a deep breath and punched Scott on the arm and flashed him a toothless smile. “Scott, dude. Seriously, take it easy, okay? One step at a time.” There wasn’t much he could do to ease Scott’s nerves on the situation, but maybe he could at least stop him from being a full out freakazoid about it. And, in doing so, help them to possibly get back to being a ‘them’ again instead of being just Allison and Scott as two separate entities. “Maybe she’s not entirely sure what she wants you guys to be right now. So, just do not, for the love of everything that is holy, try to rush it. Maybe she just needs to ease herself into being around you again; in the best way possible. Plus, she’s got a lot on her plate. So, you know, plat it cool. I promise you, that will work.”

Stiles leaned back against the frame of his front door, putting one hand in his pocket while the other lifted to rub the back of his neck. “Allison has people like John freaking Mayer hitting on her constantly. Relentlessly even. Some of them think that they’re gods gift to the world. The worst of them are creeps. She probably wants to be around you and feel, I don’t know, normal. That’s probably the best thing you can do right now.” Actually, that was pretty brilliant. Stiles had not even realized this revelation when he started talking. At least, sometimes his penchant to talk right off the top of his help actually helped. Maybe he was just growing wise in his old age. “Just, just be yourself man and don’t over think it, okay? Its not like agreeing to go out for coffee is a universal sign or something. It’s complicated. Okay?”

Scott blinked a few times as if taking in the information and just letting it all just sink in. After a minute, he grinned, ear to ear and nodded a couple of times. “Thanks dude. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And, with that, his best bud walked off with a bounce in his step whistling underneath his breath.

He waved as he watched Scott’s SUV drive down his driveway and off of his property. Stiles was just about to go inside and check on Isaac who was playing on his Nintendo 3DS (which Stiles definitely did not buy one for himself so he and his son could battle each other depending on the game) when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Maybe, if the day hadn’t been so darn normal, he would have started freaking out, heart hammering in his chest and jumping backwards into the house to lock every singly lock available. But, knowing that Boyd and Derek had been out and about on his property, Stiles didn’t really startle. He simply turned to see Derek looming by the edge of the porch staring right at him. 

It should have been intimidating, maybe if Stiles met the guy randomly on the street, not that he was ever randomly _on_ the street. But, maybe he would have been a little bit afraid of him. Or, hell, even attracted to him. Yes, definitely attracted to him with or without the three-piece suit. Stiles could admit objectively that Derek was attractive. From his perfectly styled hair, to his alarmingly gorgeous eyes; which every time that Stiles tried to pinpoint the color of them, it seemed like they had shifted color slightly, constantly going between the state of green and blue; and even the way that his suit clung to his biceps and thighs to show just how much effort he put into his daily work out regime. All of it. Stiles could, yes, _objectively_ note that Derek was one very attractive person.

Still, that wasn’t the point.

...What was the point?

Right. In any other circumstance, catching a guy who looks like Derek flat out staring at him might have stirred a whole onslaught of emotions in him. Fear or lust were the first to come to mind. The two emotions were pretty far, far away from what he was feeling right now. Comfort? A small and yet completely satisfactory sense of safety. Sure, they guy _could_ end up sucking at his job and maybe Stiles would get axe murdered at his next talk show appearance-- which he doubted because Lydia was good at her job and probably called every single one of Derek’s previous employers and every single reference. Either way, knowing that there was someone who seemed pretty damn gungho about keeping him out of harms way, well that certainly helped Stiles’ mental health.

“Hey Derek,” Stiles waved awkwardly, wiggling his fingers as he did after a stretch of silence held on that seemed just a tad too long to be a comfortable one without either one of them saying a word. He walked over to the edge of the stairs and leaned on the railing. This made the distance feel less awkward, at least Stiles thought. There was nothing exactly normal about holding a conversation over a ten foot distance between the two of them. “Did you finish, uh, everything?” He didn’t really know how to ask about the intense security check. And when Stiles didn‘t know what to say, he usually joked around or said something stupid. The line was a fine one that he liked to think he toed easily every day of his life. “Find every chink in the armor of Casa de Stilinski?”

The bodyguard looked away, down towards the gate which was now closed and locked. At least it was a step up from earlier when the guy showed up. His mansion might not be fort knox, but it usually wasn’t that bad. They never had any issues before... 

“Right," Stiles nodded leaning forward as he braced his weight on the railing. “I’m beginning to see a trend with your silences. Each time I ask you a question and you don’t _actually_ answer, I’m going to take it as a yes. Got that buddy?" The only response from the bodyguard was the action of him cutting his gaze back to Stiles, eyes locking with him over the small difference in height that Stiles was given by advantage of standing on the porch. That was fine, it was response enough for him. Over the mere course of forty-eight hours, Stiles had yet to actually think about the actual logistics of what having a bodyguard actually _meant_. “And, I never really asked this before, I probably should have yesterday when Lydia was here going over, well, everything. But, where will you be staying?”

Derek rolled his eyes, his expression becoming pinched as if Stiles bringing this up was bringing him severe amounts of pain, being it either physical or just one really intense migraine that seemed to spike every time he spoke. And, really. Stiles was pretty sure he wasn’t doing all that bad adjusting to the situation at hand, all things considered. He knows at least five divas, just off the top of his head, who would take this a totally different way and make Derek’s life a living hell. “I’ll be staying here. The nearest hotel is twenty miles away and it will be easier to keep an eye on things if I’m on site.”

Which, okay. Stiles tilted his head to the side and mulling it over. It made sense. There was no way he would be getting what ever ridiculous salary he had been offered by being twenty miles away and not at Stiles’ side at any given time. “The pool house will probably be good for you. Enough room to set everythin--anything you need to set up. And a decent amount of privacy for you.”

A scoff stopped him from continuing, Stiles met Derek’s cool gaze once again, his lips curved in an almost there smile. It wasn’t a happy hint of one, rather it was pretty freaking mocking; if an expression that if you blinked you’d miss it could be mocking, that is. “I don’t need privacy. I just need to be close by. One of the guest rooms. Preferably one that isn’t too far from your room.”

“Right. Close by. Sorry I didn’t think of that. Usually it’s not really my job to anticipate or delegate rooms to people under my employment,” his tone held more bite than was necessary, but something about the guy got under his skin. Maybe it was the fact that Stiles had yet to figure out how to read him or that in the past few minutes he seemed, what was the appropriate word? Smug. Definitely smug. Maybe there was a hint of condescension lingering there. Especially because it seemed like the fact that Derek had to actually point that out to him was pegging Stiles as stupid. Awesome. And, on a side note that he was not going to give the bodyguard the privilege of becoming privy of, Stiles _did_ actually tell his friends who were also employed under him in some way or another, which specific rooms in his home were specifically open to them. He only had three guest rooms in his house right now that didn’t belong to someone in his life already. 

Shaking his head, Derek walked away from the front of the house without a word. Stiles watched in mild fascination at the abrupt end to their conversation as the man in question continued down the driveway and slip out the front gate. He paused at the buzzer, pressing the button and speaking something into it, presumably to Boyd who was back at his post after finishing up with Derek on the grounds, before he turned and walked out of Stiles’ line of sight.

He couldn’t really help the state of confusion that was settling in. The bodyguard had said that he was taking the job, spent nearly two hours poking around his house and all the land he owned around it, and for what? Just to walk off? What the he-- 

There was a car pulling through the open gates, a black sleek Camaro. It was a nice car, hot. And not at all what he would expect a bodyguard, Derek in particular, to be driving. He figured a crown vic or something that was supposed to be more nondescript. But not this. He straightened up and crossed his arms, trying not to gape too much as the car parked and Derek exited the driver side. “A freaking Camaro? Are you kidding me? You are, aren’t you? I thought people in your line of work didn’t really deliberately draw attention to themselves.”

Derek went to the trunk that was already popped, gathering a large suitcase and a briefcase. He didn’t bother to answer Stiles until he was walking up the stairs, an eyebrow raised. “If anyone sees it, they’ll think you just got a new car. Or that you have a famous friend staying with you. Anything less and they would question it.”

Huh. He hadn’t thought of that. Stiles was getting a little aggravated that the bodyguard kept making sense in ways that had yet to even occur to Stiles. It wasn’t that he was always used to being leaps and bounds ahead of people, but he prided himself on being perceptive. Maybe he was kidding himself and with all this fame he had lost that part of himself. “Okay, point taken. But a 2011? It’s a nice car but anyone _really_ famous would get a classic car or this years model.”

“Fine,” Derek set his jaw, a muscle jumping just below the skin. Stiles almost felt bad for his comment about the car, feeling that it might have been out of line and this car could be the other man’s baby in a way that his beloved jeep was back in high school. “Maybe they’ll think you finally landed a boyfriend. I don’t care. It’s what I drive so deal with it.”

Lifting his hands in a placating surrender, Stiles turned to lead Derek back into the house. They walked in silence up to the second floor where Stiles showed him to the few remaining guest rooms and as suspected by Derek’s previous comment, he settled on the room down the hallway off of where his and Isaac’s rooms were located.

“Consider this your home away from home... I guess.” he said, more for the desperate need to fill the silence more than anything else. He had reigned in his need to put his foot in his mouth all the time, but he felt completely out of his element right now. Stiles never had anyone in his house, _staying_ at his house to be more accurate, that he hadn’t known for years. It was going to be an adjustment, that was to be sure. For some reason, he felt awkward and younger than his years. “If you, uh, need anything, feel free to let me, or I guess Scott, know. We‘ll get you a copy of the necessary contact numbers you‘ll need to have on speed dial; all of my team and Lydia‘s office--”

”I already have Ms. Martin’s personal number as well as her boss‘.” Derek said cagily, cutting Stiles off as he dropped the suitcase and briefcase both on top of the bed.

“Why do you-- right. They would’ve been the ones to contact you with the offer of the job." Of course, of course he would already have some of the necessary contacts. He wouldn’t be surprised if Lydia was already on top of e-mailing Derek everyone’s numbers just to be proactive and helpful as she always seemed to know what to do. He slapped the palm of his hand against his forehead before turning around to walk out of the room. “Of course... Okay. I’ll let you get settled.”

Stiles lingered in the doorway for a moment, half turned around so he could see Derek unzipping his bag and placing a laptop on the desk at the other end of the room. He wondered if he should elaborate where he would be, making the first night on the job easier for the guy. Was that what you did? He only ever had a few personal friends on security since he never really required anything more. And, now that he did, he wasn’t exactly sure what the protocol was. Which... oh well. He was going for it. Maybe it would serve as an olive branch or something, show the bodyguard that he was most definitely not one of those divas who refused to cooperate. “Isaac and I will be in the living room if you feel lik-- if you need to find us when you’re done.”

~*~

“So, buddy, I have to do a little writing,” And, really, it wasn’t fair how adorable his son was even when he was pouting. Isaac’s eyes seemed impossibly large as he glanced away from his father, lower lip jutting out. He was going to be in serious trouble when the kid grew up, because honestly. He was far too adorable and he wasn’t even aware of it. Man, the hearts that Isaac was going to break... “But, it won’t be all night. How about this, you pick out a movie and I can only write during it and then we can do whatever you want before bed. Maybe a game or something? Whatever you want. Alright?”

Isaac shuffled his feet, placing his hands within the pockets of his jeans and lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I guess that’s okay. How about Hercules?”

Stiles let out a loud laugh, “Haven’t you seen that at least twelve times? How about Despicable Me? We never even opened that one and remember you liked that when we saw it at the movie theater? The minions were hilarious.” He remembered how after the movie, Isaac had tried to mimic the gibberish that was the minions language.Then again, he wasn’t the only one who had mimicked something from the movie. Stiles kept trying to impersonate Gru; especially “Lightbulb.” It was an adorable movie and he held no shame in loving it whole-heartedly. 

“You can’t see one movie too many times Dad,” Isaac rolled his eyes while crossing his arms about his chest. “Plus, Hercules is, like, awesome. He was this dorky kid that didn’t belong then worked hard and became a hero. Plus, Meg’s really cool too. And, Pegasus. I wish I had a Pegasus.”

“I’d prefer a Alicorn. You know, a Pegasus unicorn. They’re way cooler.” Yeah, having a kid gave him excuses to watch children’s television shows. My Little Pony was totally one of Stiles’ guilty pleasures. That and Phinaes and Ferb. And Victorious. That one was one that he never admitted to anyone. Nope. That one stayed way under wraps. Like... skeletons in the closet hidden. That kind of under wraps. No one needed to know that he wished that he went to their high school. Well, that or Sunnydale. Except with his luck he’d be one of the poor humans who just died off in the beginning few minutes of the show. 

“But, that’s fine. Hercules it is.”

Stiles cued up the movie before settling on the couch while Isaac plopped himself on the floor with one of the couches from the love seat settled behind his back. He stared at his kid for a few minutes, sitting Indian-style as he tapped his fingers on his knees in excitement. He was all for watching things multiple times, really, he was. But, it was amazing how many times kids to watch things, especially in a row. It was almost to excess. He had to make a mental note to ask if he ever did the same thing; he prayed that it was to something like the Goonies or the Pagemaster. With his luck, it was probably Jesus Christ Superstar; which would explain so much about his life right now. Scratch that, maybe he was a tad too terrified to broach the subject. 

He was interrupted from his distracted staring when Derek silently moved into his peripheral vision. Stiles turned his head and offered the guy a smile and gestured to the love seat that was currently unoccupied. It made no sense for him to go patrol right now, at the very least he could be comfortable while he watched over them on what was probably the easiest first night ever on the job. 

Stiles lifted up his knees to support his notepad, tuning out the music and dialogue of the movie as best he could while he tried to work on the new song he was supposed to have ready to present to the label by next Thursday. They offered him co-writers and already written songs but he refused. He had fought to pen ten of twelve of the songs off of his new CD and he was not going through that again. He just needed... inspiration. Writing a hit song was easy, a club song, a tongue and cheek song like his new single; that song had only taken two hours to pen before he started playing around with arrangements. Sometimes things just came easier. What he wanted the few B-side songs on his record to show a different side of his music, of what his career could turn into without straying too far. Hell, he always thought of that one song that might define his career. Stiles just wasn’t sure he was ever going to get there.

He noticed he was shifting lower onto the couch, but Stiles figured that his writing and the noise from the movie would keep him from drifting off. Usually noise helped, he hadn’t fallen asleep during a movie since he adopted Isaac... Then again, he had never spent the night jumping at shadows, so this was probably an exception to the rule. The last thing he remembered was Meg’s entrance before he drifted off.

When he came to, eyes slowly opening as the last tendrils of sleep were still trying to lure him back. The TV was off, that was the first thing that he noticed as he glanced around blearily, trying to shake off fog of sleep that always seemed to linger when he first regained consciousness. It was needless to say that Stiles was never really running on full cylinders when first waking up, it made getting up for his personal trainer. He lifted his hands above his head and stretched, feeling his joints ache from the way he had been laying on the couch.

Stifling a yawn, Stiles slowly shifted into a sitting position, noting his discarded notebook and pen on the floor just beside where he set his feet down. He ran a hand through his hair as his eyes roved the room trying to locate his son. His eyes widened in shock when his eyes landed on the love seat. Derek was still sitting on the far end of it but there was the familiar shape of Isaac crowded up against his side, his hand fisting the fabric of the bodyguard’s dress shirt. 

The other man tilted his head to the side, eyes meeting Stiles’ still wide eyed gaze. His heart twisted in his chest, something that wasn’t exactly jealousy was fostered there. Stiles knew, without a doubt in his heart that his son loved him. He was definitely not in danger of losing him to anyone else and that particular fear was never one that registered with him. But, Isaac _never_ bonded this incredibly fast. Sure, the kid had decent instincts about people in general, but it still usually took weeks before he got comfortable. The only person Isaac really took a shine to faster than usual was Scott and Stiles had a sneaking suspicion it was because his best friend basically acted like a kid with Isaac, seemingly stepping into the older brother slash cool uncle category. Putting all of that aside, the fact that sometime after Stiles drifted off, Isaac had possibly bonded with the bodyguard enough to feel comfortable enough falling asleep on the guy.

Clearing his throat, the singer thought to break the silence that was damn near palpable in the air. “How long was I asleep?” His voice sounded a bit raspy from the impromptu nap. 

Derek slanted his eyes toward the clock above the flat screen TV, expression not betraying a thing. “Four hours.”

“Crap.” Now he really felt guilty, even though the nap was much needed. As it was, Erica was going to have a field day tomorrow having to airbrush out the dark circles under his eyes. He could already hear her tutting under her breath as she worked her magic. He could deal with her displeased quips, but this was a bit more serious. Stiles rubbed a hand over his face. He really had not meant to fall asleep, mostly because this was probably one of the few days off he had in the next three weeks or so that he had with Isaac without having to interrupt family time with his career responsibilities. 

Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees while his fingers threading together before his face. Amber colored eyes stared at Isaac’s sleeping form, taking in the entire sight for a few minutes, still waking up. “He must really like you. He never does,” Stiles shifted his hands to gesture at the pair of them on the love seat, as if it was easier just to gesture towards what was going on rather then actually put it into words. Conveying his child’s trust issues was not really something could put into a clear concise sentence. “That with anyone aside from people he really trusts. You must have really made an impression.” Stiles wondered idly if it was because of Derek himself or just because he was the one there to protect his adoptive father.

With a bit of learned grace, he lifted himself off of the couch, the joints in his legs popping as he stood. Stiles let out a groan, bending down at the waist to rub his knees. “I’ll tell you, this lifestyle. They tell you it’s all glitz and glamour, but... I was _definitely_ not forewarned that after several world tours I would feel like I sixty year old; At least I don’t look like one, right?” The last part he asked rhetorically, not actually expecting anything from the other man. It wasn’t like Derek was going to spout on and on about how young or good he looked for his age. In the public’s eye, he was all confidence and sex appeal. Some might think it was probably an act when it was more of an exaggeration. He knew the basis of his appeal, he knew he some people found him attractive but it he didn’t act like the cat’s meow in his personal life. Stiles liked to think it was more of a quiet confidence. It was leaps and bounds above the flailing, awkward kid he had been in high school. 

Stiles took the few steps and walked over to the smaller couch and carefully scooped Isaac off of Derek. He held his son’s head cradled against his neck, and either of his limp legs saddled against the side of his hip to balance out his weight. Jeeze, the kid was getting big. He was going to miss the days when he could do things like this, lift him off of the couch with relative ease and put him to bed. 

Without a word, the musician padded out of the living room and up the stairs as quietly and smoothly as possible. He tried not to jostle Isaac too much, knowing that if he got his son to be even the slightest bit awake, he would plead to stay up for a few more hours for some quality time. It would break his heart to say no; Stiles was a push over sometimes. That being said, it was probably still best to keep Isaac on a regular sleeping schedule. Just because his life was a little bit hectic didn’t mean that Isaac should follow in his footsteps. All of the parenting books (yes, he had done extensive research) told him that a sense of structure and normality would b e what was best for his kid. 

He managed to maneuver himself to Isaac’s room within a few minutes and eased the eight year old into the bed before pulling the comforter up to his shoulders. Leaning forward, Stiles pressed a light kiss on Isaac’s forehead, “Goodnight, sweet prince.” It was silly, but Stiles had said it to Isaac the first night he had spent with the child and had pretty much been saying it since. At the time, he couldn’t think of a way to say goodnight that might be comforting to the kid. It had caused the corners of Isaac’s lips to lift in a small, shy smile. Now, it was just a staple in their relationship, and Stiles was perfectly fine with that.

Stiles turned away from the twin bed and made his way out of the room, flicking on the Batman night-light on his way out. He jumped slightly as he closed the door halfway and spotted Derek leaning against the wall only about a foot and a half away from Isaac’s bedroom door. “Jeeze,” he put a hand to his chest as he closed his eyes, trying to calm down the erratic beating of his heart. “I guess you really worked on that whole stealth thing in high-grade bodyguard school. Is it more extensive than ninja academy? I’m guessing they’re more ore less comparable, just different, you know methods.”

Derek bowed his head, his arms crossing about his chest. Stiles worse that he saw the barest, tiniest hint of a smile pull up the corners of his lips. He didn’t think that the flicker of an expression was all in his head and knowing that the guy might actually have some sort of sense of humor underneath the very stiff and professional demeanor. Which was good, it made him seem, Stiles didn’t know, more approachable? Humanized him? Made Stiles aware that Derek the bodyguard was not a robot or cyborg and actually capable of several different emotions. 

“What’s with Isaac?” Derek asked softly, gaze flicking toward the door. The soft light from the night-light filtered into the dark hallway, making this conversation seemed more intimate than Stiles would have liked. He had never had this talk with a significant other, granted he never had anyone that was important enough in his life that warranted any information. Everyone else in his life, friends and family, they knew all about it and after the initial conversations, they all respectably veered away from the topic, knowing how sensitive a topic it was. 

Stiles wet his lips, weighing the decision of rehashing the whole story to a virtual stranger. A stranger who was going to be taking care of him and making sure that a psycho fan would not get the drop on him and murder him. Okay, maybe the guy could be trusted. He was sure that has also signed a confidentiality agreement-- again, reason three hundred and forty six of why Lydia Martin was a genius. That and it was pretty standard to have a bodyguard sign one... but, with Mr. Hale and Lydia behind it, the lawyers probably made sure that it was completely without loopholes. 

“I adopted him a couple of years ago, I’m sure you know that. But...” He paused, running a hand through his hair in a nervous habit. Stiles bit his bottom lip, nodding to himself before taking a step closer to Derek, leveling his gaze on him. “This is not something you can repeat or sell ‘cause I’m sure my dad would track you down and kill you. Right before I brought you back to life and killed you again.”

Derek didn’t wait longer than half a second to answer, his eyes were wide and intense. They looked almost gray in the significant lack of light, staring right back into Stiles’ own amber colored eyes unflinchingly. “I wouldn’t.”

It was strange that the way the other man had said it made it an actual comfort; from his tone and inflection, Stiles actually _believed_ him. And trust wasn’t really something that readily came to Stiles. That was probably more of a side-effect of fame. He flashed a brief smile at the man before nodding and gestured down the hall in the direction of the den. Stiles figured that it would be more prudent to discuss this away from where Isaac was sleeping. He never mentioned Isaac’s troubled past around the child. Sure, if Isaac brought it up, that was completely different. They had standing sessions with a therapist regularly, but outside of the sessions Stiles wanted it to be Isaaac’s decision when or if he felt comfortable talking about it. It was not only Stiles’ parenting decision but a suggestion from the therapist, Ms. Morrell.

Stiles led Derek away from his son’s bedroom and walked into his office. Without a word, after flicking on the light the musician walked over to the small bar that was set up along the far wall. It had reminded him of Mad Men, how they all always had copious amounts of liquor at their disposal; not that Stiles was a heavy drinker, he just thought that it classed up his already highly classy office. He poured himself two fingers of whiskey before turning back to face Derek. He didn’t strike him as someone that would be drinking on the job, even with it being so late, so Stiles didn’t even bother to ask.

“Isaac’s father, he was... well, he was an asshole, for lack of a more accurate word. Or, that term is pretty damn accurate, it just doesn’t convey the sheer amount of fucked up that this guy was.” He walked over to one of the overstuffed leather chairs and curled up in it, legs tucked underneath him. Stiles swirled the amber liquid in the glass, eyes unmoving from it as he continued. “He used to beat him. Lock him up in a freezer in the basement. The guy would just leave him in there for days, no one around knew. Thought that he was the nicest guy in the world, a grieving widow after his wife passed. Which, always stuck me as odd. Looking back into it all, hearing about how she died... I don’t think it was an accident. But, being that there was no substantial evidence, the local sheriff’s department couldn’t really do anything.”

Stiles shook his head, realizing that he was veering off topic. He really only needed to tell the meat of the story, the jist of it. Derek did not really need to know every sordid detail of the case. But, then again, this was Stiles. “There were fingernail indents, scratches on the inside of the door that had been chained shut. They, uh, found blood and broken nails. I was never fucking happier for someone getting a DUI in my life. I... I don’t even want to think about what would have happened if my dad hadn’t arrested him. I don’t...I don’t even know if he would be alive.” Stiles turned his head to the side, clearing his throat before he downed the whiskey in one fell swoop. “There was a follow up, my dad wanted to check up on Isaac where his father was going to be held up for the night... and... Well, he found all of that.”

“ _Aaanyway_ ,” He said after a long moment of silence, the singer chanced a look up at Derek, his intense stare was dark with his eyebrows drawn together. It wasn’t like Stiles knew the man well enough to read him, so he couldn’t tell if it was simply anger, outrage or something more akin to a protective stance of understanding. “I didn’t think I could love anyone as much as I love him. If it ever came to me or him, I’d always choose him. Hands down, no argument. He deserves that.”

Standing up, Stiles stood and made his way to refresh his drink. He was glad that his back was facing Derek because his hands were shaking in a fine tremor as he poured the whiskey. He had to be thankful that at least the glass didn’t clink and make the other man obvious of his emotional state. He couldn’t help that this stilted and short talk brought back fierce waves of emotion. Even if he hadn’t adopted Isaac, Stiles still would have been pissed the hell off over this situation. “I guess you didn’t really need to hear all of that, I probably could have given you an even shorter cliff notes-esque version of it, but... Well, that’s me in a nutshell. Over sharer by nature. I’ve been told many, many times that I have an issue with filters.”

“I asked and you answered. I was ready for whatever you were willing to tell me. Or not.” Stiles could hear the soft creak of leather, the tell tale sign that the bodyguard had finally decided to sit down instead of just looming off by the edge of the desk. 

Stiles turned back around and sank back down into the chair. He knew that he probably should stop talking to Derek about all of this, but, who else would understand? “It’s not that I don’t want to let this alter my life. I’m not a complete primadonna.” Stiles let out a short self-deprecating laugh. “I get it. I get that this is a serious situation. I do. Honestly. What I don’t... What I don’t want is for this to effect Isaac. Obviously he’s been effected by my life. I just, I’ve tried to keep him safe. To want for freaking nothing and to have the life that he _should_ have. That he should’ve had right from day one. With people who love him surrounding him. I...”

Taking a slow sip of his whiskey, almost as if he were biding his time. Trying to string his thoughts together cohesively in a way that would make sense to the other man once uttered aloud. “Can you promise me something? I know your job is to protect me, but if it comes down to me or my son... You have to put his life before mine.” Stiles looked up, leaning forward so his elbows were resting on his thighs as he peered into the other man’s eyes almost pleadingly. “Please.”

“Okay." Derek nodded. “I’ll start the necessary renovation of your security tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, not a lot of things happened in this chapter, but this was probably the last of the set up and the next chapter shifts POV and plotty things happen. Yay? Totally yay.
> 
> Comment, kudos... whatever! Let me know what you think as per usual. 
> 
> <3


	6. Dancing On My Own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their discussion, Derek decides to get started immediately on fixing the security system (or, lack thereof) at Stiles' house. There are many distractions in his way, mainly having to do with Stiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay guys. This is a shorter chapter, but it's more like an interlude of sorts. Oh, and it's from Derek's POV. And I couldn't help but tease him a little bit. Probably because I'm a little bit evil. :D
> 
> The song Stiles is practicing is "Aftermath" by Adam Lambert.  
> And the title of this update is "Dancing on my Own" by Robyn. A fantastic song that I got wildly obsessed with when it was on the first season of Girls and cannot stop listening to.
> 
> As per usual, this is unbeta'd so all of the mistakes are my own and I apologize profusely for them.

After they were done with their conversation, Derek left the singer alone in the office, bidding him a stern goodnight over his shoulder on his way. Normally, he would still have kept his new client in his sights, especially during the first few couple of days in order to familiarize himself with their usual routines and habits. But tonight, this job, it felt different. Maybe, a niggling voice in the back of his mind supplied as he walked down the hall, maybe it was because _Stiles_ was different. With the story involving Isaac’s past, even though it was abridged but still not without raw emotion seeping into the man’s voice, Derek couldn’t help feeling a connection with the man. He knew that he had more of a connection with Stiles than he had ever felt with any of his other clients. And Derek always prided himself on his instincts about people, it was an integral part of his job. He knew, he just _knew_ that Stiles wasn’t going to do something stupid in the next seven or so hours and felt confident enough to leave the man to his own devices.

Silently, Derek made his way down the carpeted hall way toward the best bedroom and closed the door most of the way. He didn’t need the privacy of a locked or closed door. He was on a job, his own privacy wasn’t the first priority. He walked over to the desk and pulled out the chair before lowering himself down onto it gracefully. Derek scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to rub away the tendrils of sleep that were threatening to take hold. He could always venture downstairs and make himself a pot of coffee if need be. He unzipped the briefcase, pulling out his laptop and powered it up. He had a few things he still needed to take care of, contacts he needed to shoot an email off to ensure that he could fully commit to the plan of gearing up the security for the Stilinski residence. As the computer loaded, he went over a mental list of what he needed to do, who would be best to contact and etc cetera.

First things first, cameras. The estate needed cameras, twenty would probably suffice and it really was not something that they should skimp on. Derek would rather have more cameras than they needed rather than less. He thought about where they could position them so that they would get the most out of it, trying to leave any blind spots to a minimum. Derek was glad that he went on his own little tour earlier today, that he was able to make his way around the house and grounds and familiarize himself with what he had to work with. Especially without anyone trying to look over his shoulder, without being micro-managed. Derek had had far too many jobs where people showed him around and wanted his services but they didn’t necessarily want him to see just how messy their lives were. 

The next thing he had to decide was where to set up the monitors for Boyd and himself to keep an eye on at any given time. Derek had a few, albeit short, conversations with the man, and already considered him as an ally within five minutes of being around him. The tall, dark man was something of an enigma, similar enough to Derek that he could recognize it and appreciate it at least. If he were the sort of person who would take on a protege, this man would definitely be in the running. Either way, it was nice to find someone that he got on with without having to force conversation, without feeling like someone needed to fill the void of silence. When they were together, neither one of them spoke much, but they seemed to be able to read each other well enough, Which was pretty amazing considering that they had not known each other for more than forty-eight hours. It was rare to find someone you worked so well with right off the back. It was good that Derek wasn’t a lesser person, that he wasn’t going to attempt to poach the security guard to work with him. Even with all of this said, Boyd would still be a good ally for the job at hand.

Normally, Derek would use certain search programs to gather all the necessary information that he could on his client after the initial meeting. He would find out all about the skeletons in their closets, making sure that he had every piece of information that would help him suss out who might be a threat and who wouldn’t be. It wasn’t always clear which way people leaned, everyone was a suspect. Hell, sometimes his client’s lawyers would compile a list of who was in their loves, things that were on and off the record; anything that would assist in allowing him to do his job properly and as efficiently as possible. 

From what Derek could see, unless someone wasn’t what they seemed (which was, sadly, usually the case) then the person making the threats was not someone who was in Stiles’ immediate circle of friends. It could be a fan, that meant that Derek would have to comb over fan websites, which he was sure that Stiles had many. But, that wasn’t something that he had to do immediately. 

He shot off an email to his usual contacts, asking them all to have what he needed ready for delivery in the morning. They were all people he had worked with for years, people who were used to having ridiculous turn around times for Derek’s jobs. Their efficiency provided them with referrals to other jobs and a decent tip from the bodyguard. If he actually went with his idea of actual turning his profession into a firm of bodyguards for hire, he would employ every last person that had helped him out during the past couple of years. A job like the one that he was doing right now, a high profile case, well, needless to say that if it went well he would certainly have the start up capital to do what he had wanted. 

Another thing to add to his list was that he needed to get Stiles a panic button, but it had to be something that would go with most of his outfits and not actually _look_ like a panic button. Something that would be discrete but that would also not go off easily. A necklace perhaps? It had to be something that the singer could have on him at all times. Maybe he could see if Laura had anything at her shop that Stiles liked. Laura, his sister, owned a small boutique on Rodeo Drive, he vaguely remembered that Stiles was going to have lunch tomorrow only about twenty minutes or so away from her store, maybe he could see if the singer wanted to go there afterwards. He didn’t seem like he would give him any trouble over a request like that. 

He shook his head, maybe he was getting a little bit ahead of himself. Derek needed to make a list of where he was going to place the cameras and figure out if they needed to have electricity wiring on the tops of the fences surrounding the estate. It couldn’t be anything that Isaac could accidentally get hurt on, though, the kid seemed surprisingly smart for his age. Derek opened a text document and began listing the places that he remembered from earlier that would work, muttering to himself as he did so. It was surprising that more fans and paparazzi hadn’t infiltrated the Stiles’s home by now. As it stood, anyone could make it in here, and that fact alone made Derek’s job harder than it needed to be. 

Why did everyone think that they were invincible? That they were the exception to the rule? Derek rubbed the back of his neck at let out a huff of frustration. It wasn’t that he wasn’t up to the task, at least they all seemed willing to work with him, hell, they were pretty much more than willing. If it meant Stiles’ safety, they all seemed to be completely on board. Usually there was someone who was part of the entourage who seemed less than thrilled to have to adapt, or were blase to the entire process. It certainly showed how close they all were and how much they cared. It also spoke volumes about Stiles as a person. Having people care and value your life was a huge thing. 

It was strange, Derek thought as he leaned back in his chair, eyes lifting off of the computer screen to stare off into the distance. He was thinking about Stiles, how it was strange that he didn’t act or seem like a multi-million dollar selling artist, not that Derek Hale was any sort of an expert-- not even close. But, he had dealt with a few of them in the past, even a handful of actors. They, none of them, seemed to be as grounded and down to Earth as Stiles was. A great deal of them tended to ignore his presence, expecting him to melt into the background. Not one of them offered to cook for him, invite him to have dinner with them and their family. Maybe that was just how the man worked. Maybe he was just a lonely guy and that made his friends and employees pretty much his family. From what he could tell, most of them at met before Stiles had gotten really, really famous. Even that singer, Allison Argent, seemed to be pretty close to him. Derek never really listened to the radio save for NPR, so he wasn’t really up on the current music trends; but, he had seem a billboard of her before advertising a concert at Madison Square Garden. Though, that had been a couple of years back when he had been tailing a famous Yankees’ shortstop who was on the receiving end of an alarming number of threats. They all had been due to who he was dating, though, there had been a few that were simply because of the team he was on. Boston fans were certainly devoted that way.

Still, even with all that being said, that he was aware of both singers’ popularity, he never actually heard Allison’s or Stiles’ music before. Well, apart from that song that was playing at the video shoot, and even then, it was just snippets of the chorus. It wasn’t like he could actually call that a proper education. He couldn’t get a feel for the music, a feel of the artist underneath from that. Then again, maybe he was over thinking this. It wasn’t like he needed to know everything about his music to protect him. For all he knew, Stiles could just be another pop star, an overly produced and with as much talent as Britney Spears. Though, somehow, Derek didn’t think that. Stiles had been working on lyrics earlier, hadn’t he? Not that that meant that the lyrics were brilliant by any means...

Derek let out a groan and opened up his web browser before keying in the singers name. He couldn’t be sure of his talents until he looked into them himself, right?

Arguably, he knew that there was no real point in doing this. It was something that resulted from pure curiosity. After hearing what Stiles had done for Isaac, Derek couldn’t help but want to absorb all of the information that was available to him about Stiles. He found himself desperately wanting to figure him out, to delve into each and every crevice of his universe to understand him to the fullest extent. Maybe it was the wrong path. Maybe he should be able to possess the will power to stop himself and get started on the things that were _actually_ pertinent to the job he had actually been hired for. Though, maybe he _could_ write it off as that, research on his career. Thinking that maybe some regarding the stalker would be hidden in the body of his work.

Derek certainly was good at convincing himself, writing things off in a certain way so that he didn’t have to deal with the reality of the situation.

After three hours of watching music videos and interviews, Derek couldn’t help the surge of affection he felt toward Stiles. His music career started out as being part of an Indie gem of a band (the music was actually something that Derek could listen to, sure it was unpolished but that was part of the charm) and spiraled into something bigger than the man had ever seen coming (he had even said so in an interview once). Derek could see where his persona had changed slightly. How he became more confident, adding more tongue-in-cheek comments and, hell, even blatantly flirting with talk show hosts; male or female. Stiles was charming and there was a warmth to him-- he seemed to be completely in his element and Derek could see why so many people were drawn to him. Stiles was... he was... Well, he was fucking magnetic. And his voice was absolutely stunning. Derek truly hadn’t heard anyone before who had that kind of range. 

Derek huffed out a breath of air, knowing that he was already getting attached to this job and it hadn’t even really even delved into it. That was bad. He shook his head, knowing he had to distance himself, forcibly stop himself from getting attached. It would only cloud his mind and his judgement; and that wouldn’t be fair to Stiles. He couldn’t do his job to the best of his abilities if he was beginning to think of the man not as a client but as...

He shook the thought away and X-ed out of the window and pulled his email back up. He saw that he had gotten a response back about the cameras and monitors, how there was a new system that he should use with smaller cameras that would stand out less to trespassers. Derek glanced down at his watch before firing off another email, listing when he would be able to meet. Since it didn’t seem like he was going to get much or any sleep, Derek figured he might as well make the most of it. He could slip out and then begin setting them up. Maybe he could actually get the majority of it done before everyone woke up. He would rather that most of Stiles’ staff didn’t know where exactly all the cameras were being placed, just in case one of them didn’t have Stiles’ best interest at heart.

Derek shut down his computer and grabbed a fresh pair of clothes and his toiletries before heading to the bathroom that was attached to the guest room.

~*~

It didn’t take more than a half an hour to meet Jeff, less to load the trunk of his car with his supplies. The pair didn’t talk much as they did the exchange, Jeff was more than used to the way Derek didn’t like to drag things out. It wasn’t like he didn’t like small talk, he just didn’t really feel it was necessary to do it every time he ran into people if there wasn’t a new or pressing topic at hand. The bodyguard clapped the man on the shoulder before they went on their separate ways. It was only just after seven when Derek made it back to the mansion, Boyd buzzed him in with a gruff voice that was still groggy from sleep. A small smile tugged at the corners of Derek’s lips as he muttered into the intercom about Boyd apparently not being a morning person.

Derek didn’t miss a beat when Deaton was sitting at the kitchen table and asked him what he would prefer for breakfast. He turned down the offer of a warm cooked meal and opted for an apple, already set on the task at hand. It would only take him a couple of hours, less if Boyd helped him. He worked tirelessly for several hours, not having to look at the list that he had made on his computer earlier. There was little debate as to what angle would be most beneficial, once Derek made up his mind he stuck to his guns. It wasn’t like this was his first job. 

By the time he was nearly done, Derek sent Boyd to set up the camera by the back entrance of the house, he came across the dance studio. It was half past ten and Derek didn’t expect anyone to be in there. Not that he had committed everyone’s schedule to memory yet, but, he just assumed everyone would be still going through their morning routines not practicing their choreography. Derek stood in the doorway, transfixed by the sight before him. Stiles’ lithe form was clad in spandex pants, things that looked more like thick tights than anything else and left very little to the imagination, and a loose sleeveless gray shirt. It wasn't his outfit that was so arresting.

It was _what_ he was doing. 

His body was arching, moving gracefully to the low music that was playing from the stereo. The movements were so fluid, Derek had to believe that the man had taken a number of dance classes to get to this level. His arms moved over his head in a swooping motion as he spun around on one foot, the other was bent and drawn upward to nearly contact his other knee. As he came full circle, Stiles sank to his knees and bent his body back, folding himself in half. His lips were moving silently, either counting out the steps or mouthing words to the song, Derek wasn’t entirely sure. The music slowed down, Stiles lifted himself up slowly along to it, movement stilting when there was a break in the beat, soon enough he was back on his feet, making a sweeping gesture with the swell of the music before he belted out a line from the song, _“In the aftermath...”_

Derek had thought that the man’s voice sounded good from what he heard on-line last night, but there was no comparison to hearing it in person. Without the assistance of machines or back-up singers, without the music loud enough to back it up completely. The bodyguard would be lying if he said that his arms hadn’t broken out into goosebumps. 

Stiles stopped for a moment, nodding his head with the music and tapping his foot before he broke out into another movement. He turned to the side, swaying his hips along to the music mimicking some dance moves with his hands before taking a side-step towards the mirror. The next bit was really what caught Derek off-guard. He knew that he was a good dancer, he knew that the moves tended to be on the racy side; Stiles tended to test boundaries, he had even said in an interview that he didn’t believe in comfort zones, that he liked to go past them and test people; including himself. 

The movement wasn’t even that difficult, it wasn’t something that required a huge amount of skill or anything. Stiles moved as if he was about to pick something up, instead he simply slapped the floor before bowing his back and returned to standing with a complete body roll that left heat pooling in the pit of Derek’s stomach. Even if he didn’t know the man, if he had just seen him do that move, well, he would have to admit that he found it incredibly hot. A person didn’t have to know someone to find them sexually attractive. The singer ended with shooting a wink at the mirror before all of his confidence vanished as he jumped and turned around towards Derek.

“How long have you been standing there?” He asked, his cheeks flushed and pink, either from the physical exertion or from realizing that he wasn’t alone, Derek couldn't really be one hundred percent sure. It couldn’t be that Stiles was shy or not used to people watching him; he had performed to large crowds before after all. “Not that it’s a problem, just,” He made an vague gesture with his hand, letting out a labored breath of air. “Didn’t realize I wasn’t alone. I was, uh, just practicing some new ideas for the People’s Choice Awards performance.”

Derek took a few steps into the studio, forcing his eyes off of the singer to look around the room. Anything to make him forget the way that the man had just been moving. “I didn’t know you could move like that.” Derek’s were out of his mouth before he could stop them, he wished he hadn’t said that, that he was able to reel them back in and pretend they had not been uttered aloud. Maybe he should resign from the job right here on the spot and save himself from future embarrassment. 

Stiles let out a laugh, lifting up the hem of his loose sleeveless shirt to rub the beads of sweat off of his forehead. Derek’s eyes landed on the taut muscles of his abdomen unbidden as if drawn to the sight without his express permission. The muscles there were lightly defined and slick with sweat, his eyes were drawn lower to a dark path of hair that had the bodyguard’s gaze shifting lower, moving from just below the singers belly button to the waist of his ridiculously tight pants.

“Yeah, well,” The words drew Derek out of his daze, locking onto the singer’s face just a split second before the fabric of his shirt fell back down into place. There was a bright, breathless smile on his face that made Derek wonder if he would look like this after sex, blissed out and breathless. “I’ve got moves you’ve never seen.” 

Maybe it was just him, but the silence felt palpable. Derek just stood there, unsure of what to do or say, realizing that he probably looked like a complete idiot just standing there, staring at Stiles. The man probably thought he had a social disorder or something given the way he was acting.

“How’s the security upgrade going?” Stiles asked, making his way over to grab a water off of the bench by the door. He uncapped it and took a few long sips before pouring some of it over his head, matting down his hair completely. Some people would look completely ridiculous doing that, Derek had no idea how the singer seemed to make that actually look good. Maybe it was a practiced skill that he had tried to perfect for behind the scenes footage.

Derek nodded once, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “Nearly done, two more to install and I’ll have Boyd get them completely up and running during lunch.”

“Shit,” Stiles craned his neck to look at the clock on the far end of the dance studio. “I nearly forgot about that. If I’m late Lyds will probably have me flogged. Or worse, sign me up to host the Teen Choice Awards or have a guest appearance on The Wiggles.” He pulled a face as if to illustrate just how painful doing that would be. He picked up a towel and rubbed the back of his neck, catching some of the stray water and sweat that was trailing down“I’ll, uh, go take a shower and get ready. Meet you in the living room in like forty minutes?”

With that Stiles left the studio, a small towel slung over his shoulder. Derek was left to wonder how the hell he was going to do this job and keep his professional nature completely in place. Maybe there was some bad habit that Stiles had that he could fixate on, it wasn’t as if Derek couldn’t show self-restraint. He had before and he would again. Maybe it was the lack of sleep...

Yeah, that had to be what it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmm. Stiles. I have this headcannon here where Stiles is a really amazing dancer. And since Jeff Davis said that Stiles could shake it ;) Well, it's just cemented in my brain space that he is a pretty freaking amazing dancer. I know it was hard to describe the dance moves, but if it isn't clear, it's more modern dance like that P!nk video "Try". I know, not exactly the same since Stiles is dancing on his own, but that style of dance.
> 
> Sorry that this isn't ah-mazing but I figured with all of the waiting, some sweaty Stiles and the beginnings of feels.
> 
> Comments, questions... Love 'em all! <3


	7. In Between Days...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles goes to lunch with Scott and Lydia, then there's a stop at Laura's boutique. 
> 
> Descriptions are cool right?
> 
> Basically, I just wanted Laura to show up before plot stuff happens. Plus, LAURA.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from a Cure song.
> 
> Delays build suspense... right? I've been trying to write this and the next chapter so there wasn't such a gap between them. There's a good deal written for the next one (yay). BUT. I could not delay any longer. 
> 
> As always, this is not beta'd, all mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Comments, kudos- They're totally a thing. Things I love and cherish... like the children I may eventually have. Someday.

Stiles made it back into the house in a matter of minutes, a brisk pace paired with long legs aided him with the task at hand. The last time he had been late, even though he argued to Lydia that he was, in fact, a very busy man, she also argued with a severe amount of seriousness that no one, she repeated _no one_ kept her waiting. Stiles loved Lydia, possibly more so since getting over his initial crush on her, but she was absolutely freaking terrifying at times. With powerful people who were used to getting their way, in or out of the business, you could always tell which ones you never really wanted to be on their bad side. Lydia was definitely one of those people. Stiles didn't necessarily always heed warnings but, hey, maybe his self-preservation instinct had kicked in a little late or something.

That being said, Stiles really didn't want to keep her or Scott waiting at the restaurant. Even with the desire to not keep Lydia waiting, even with his schedule as busy as it was, he absolutely hated making people wait for him. He never really had a diva streak and really hoped that his friends would remember that very vital fact when he was just a washed up has-been after all of this was over. Hell, at least Stiles had his lofty dreams for the future. His friends and family taking care of him after he was out of money. Then again, if his finance guy was anything to go by, even if he ever stopped selling records, his investments would be able to keep him comfortable for the rest if his life.

He jogged up the stairs and to the master bathroom, stripping down and stuffing his clothes into the hamper. He stretched his arms above his head as he made his way over to the shower. Stiles turned on and adjusted the temperature of the spray before he stepped under the water. Stiles’ ever vigilant mind ran over several things, events he had coming up and things he had to figure out how to finish before the week was out as he methodically cleansed himself.

The shower only took about twenty minutes but at least now he felt refreshed and ready to brave the public’s merciless eye. 

Opening his closet, he eyed the comfortable jeans and trouser pants that he usually wore when he was at home. If it were just a quick lunch in a private room he could probably get away with those, but there was always a reason to choose a public place. His public relations team wanted him to be seen, as there was a possibility of a few photo ops so... No. He had to go more with his edgier style. Stiles had been berated for that one time when he was in Star Magazine in a pair of old, ratted sweats and a sleeveless shirt when he had just left a rehearsal for an upcoming tour. Someone could always be watching, Lydia reminded him often, so no matter the situation always look as good and put together as possible.

He wandered further into the walk-in, picking up a pair of skin tight pants that started as black and faded into a deep blue by the time it reached his ankle. They made his legs look even longer, especially if he paired them with boots with any kind of heel to them. For a shirt, he settled on a fitted but comfortable long sleeved shirt that had a low V in the front and a loosely laced string near the deepest part of the collar. He outfitted it with a light black jacket and a pair of combat boots.

As he stood in front of the full length mirror that was at the far end of his closet, letting his eyes rove over his now clothed form, he nodded once in approval before going to the next step. Hair and make-up. He knew some people in his profession sometimes had people on retainer or in their entourage that would airbrush them and make them over every time they went out in public. Stiles did not feel comfortable with that. There was something to be said about being put together, not being able to do something like that yourself... Well, Stiles wasn't judging them, but he liked to have some independence. He hoped that even something as small as wanting to dress yourself and get yourself ready for the world was something that helped to keep him grounded.

Going for simple, he used some pomade to quickly style his hair in a way that looked messy was entirely intentional. It was something he had thought he perfected in his indie band days, but had since learned that there were better products to use and a certain away to style it so that it didn't wind up looking like Cameron Diaz in ‘There’s Something About Mary.’ Lesson learned and filed away. Sure, he had a few embarrassing pictures kicking around that Lydia had actually tried to buy off the press until Scott leaked them by accident. Stiles hadn't actually minded the pictures and played it off as if he didn't really care about it and saying who didn't have pictures of styles or fads that they regretted after the fact?

If nothing else, since his formative years, Stiles got better at playing off things that would have had him stammering and blushing in embarrassment before. It was a learned skill that he was glad to have.

As for makeup, Stiles just swiped on some kohl liner, foregoing foundation because he hated wearing it and it wasn't like his skin was terrible. He nearly debated adding a small amount of glitter just to keep up with the whole glam rock but he decided against it. Since it was just a lunch and not an actual event, he didn't see the need to go that overboard. The outfit would be enough to go along with his rock star alter ego. 

Stiles let out a sigh as he grabbed his wallet and tucked it in his back pocket before he swiftly made his way down to the foyer. Derek was waiting for him, hands clasped in front of him. The guy’s stance practically screamed professional and one hundred and ten percent serious.

“Shall we?” Stiles asked with a toothless smile, making a sweeping gesture toward the door. 

 

It didn't take long to get to the restaurant as it was only around thirty minutes, give or take, from his home. It was something that Stiles had put a lot of thought into, wanting to be close enough to the LA scene without actually being smack dab in the middle of it; for his own sanity as well as Isaac’s. On the ride over, Stiles managed to answer a good amount of the e-mails that he had been putting off, answered important questions about upcoming events and a couple of gigs that were coming up. 

Lydia and Scott were already there when he arrived, typing diligently into their smartphones as he made his way to the table. He had to wonder, how people dealt with this before technology. Did they just make drab conversation? Talk about the weather or just stare out into the distance until the other party arrived? Not that it really mattered. The fact that he was the last to arrive wasn't going to play as a power trip, quite the opposite. Lydia would probably argue that since she could show up on time and he was less than fashionably late. Not something that was desired in someone who wanted to be kept out of Tiger Beat or Bop magazine.

The lunch went by without incident. Lydia just wanted to touch base with him on certain events, several talk shows wanted him to be on there, and she wanted to decide which ones were less likely to bring up the stalker and which ones would actually agree to sign a contract that they wouldn't bring it up. It was better to keep it under-wraps and by default let the horrible person know that Stiles wasn't freaking out about it. Which, could help and hurt the situation. Either it helped whomever it was move on and stop fixating on him because they weren't getting the desired reaction, or it would make them try harder. There was even that moment that she glanced at Derek, smirk tugging at her lips before she made a comment about how they at least had security covered for that factor if it went that way.

 

Stiles slid into the back seat of the SUV, letting out a sigh. It really could have gone worse, he supposed. Scott left a little bit early to meet Allison at her hotel. Stiles really didn't need to hear any more than that on the subject. He was glad that it seemed like they were working things out, but Scott was his best friend and his brother-- Stiles really didn't need to hear any of the explicit details. No matter how old they got, that was just not really something he ever needed to hear about or picture.

There was a good thirty seconds before Derek slid into the other backseat door, presumably already having looked around for possible threats. At least he took his job seriously, that wasn't something that could be said about everyone. The car didn't start driving straight away, causing Stiles to lift in eyebrow in question at his driver for today, Mark, in the rear view mirror. 

“I was wondering if we could stop at a boutique before going back to the house,” Derek spoke in a level tone, only turning to look at Stiles after he finished speaking.

Stiles’ eyebrows lifted on his forehead, a smirk curving his lips. “I didn't take you as a boutique kind of guy. Hell, I bet your taste in decor is all modern with sharp lines and gunmetal grey. Very minimalist. Am I right? Please tell me I’m right.”

"It's my sister's..." Derek paused, glancing away from Stiles to look out the window for a short moment. "I need you to pick out something that I can put a panic button in, without it looking like one. That way if I'm not by your side, you can alert me to any possible threats."

Stiles hummed, "And you can also see your sister? Two birds one stone kind of deal. Well, I hope her stuff doesn't suck if I'm going to have to wear it all the time."

Derek leveled a glare at Stiles, losing his stony mask for a brief second as fierce protectiveness washed over his features. " She's very good at what she does."

The singer let out a throaty laugh, reaching over to pat the bodyguard's hand that was resting in between them on the leather seat. "We'll see about that buddy."

 

It only took them close to fifteen minutes before they were slowing to a stop in front of the store, it would've been faster on foot; LA traffic was hell sometimes. The singer slid his glasses off, hooking them on the front of his shirt. The glass over a display had the word _‘Moonspell’_ etched on the glass, the two O’s looped together in the smooth italic scrawl. Stiles didn't really know what he expected from someone who was related to Derek, but this wasn't exactly it. Not that siblings had to actually be completely alike... But, sometimes you got a certain sense about people. Then again, he knew nothing about his bodyguard, so, who was he to judge?

Stiles wondered idly what the name meant, going on the realm of thinking that it was either spiritual or kitschy; he had always liked names that were puns for shops or diners. When he was touring years ago, Scott and him had come across Alpha’s Towing somewhere in Milwaukee when their van had broken down. They only called that specific towing company due to it’s name. Stiles might not get the relevance of the name, maybe it had to do with the type of wares that the owner sold. Either way, he decided he liked it. It seemed very... Hippie. It didn't come off like it was trying to hard or snobbish.

He slid out of the car, still taking in the storefront and eyeing the simple and elegant display of necklaces and earrings. Derek pulled open the door for him, making a gesture for Stiles to enter before him. The corners of Stiles’ lips lifted in a small smile, as he noticed Derek glancing both ways down the sidewalk. He knew that he shouldn't ever doubt Lydia’s decisions, years of working with her had proven that fact time and time again. And, at least where Derek was concerned, he was nothing but professional and clearly he took his job seriously. Stiles had to wonder where they had found him and exactly how highly recommended he came.

After getting only a foot or two into the shop, Stiles allowed his eyes to properly take it all in. Instead of focusing on the glass cases and various other displays first, his gaze immediately landed on the woman behind the counter no more than a dozen feet away from where he stood. She was carefully hanging necklaces on a ceramic pink hand as the pair of them entered, making sure the last necklace was settled in it’s proper place before she looked up. Even if Stiles didn't know that this woman was Derek’s sister, he would have been struck with the strange wave of familiarity.

Her hair was long, falling down pin straight to her mid back and the same ink black of the body guards, but it was her eyes that seemed to give the family resemblance away. As they lifted to greet potential customers, the singer noticed that they were clear blue, startling blue at that. They weren't the same color as Derek’s, his being more gray at times like a stormy sea, but the resemblance between the two was striking. Stiles wondered if they had ever been mistaken for twins, especially when they were younger.

“Hello there, welcome to Moonspell--” She started before her smile widened considerably as she glanced over Stiles’ shoulder to spot Derek as he closed the door behind him. “Little bro!” She walked, no sashayed around the counter, her long legs encased in skin tight black liquid leggings and her white stylish sheer tank top was loose but flattering. Stiles liked her. She seemed, hell, she seemed effortless. The woman reminded him a little of Lydia, except not at all. She would also be a force to be reckoned with, but also a considerable ally. Maybe he was reading too much into her from only seeing her for all of thirty seconds, but, his gut was usually never wrong.

The woman all but ran through the store just to throw her arms around the bodyguard’s neck in a fierce hug. Stiles watched the exchange with a smile, noticing how Derek’s features softened with fondness; which was a good look on him. The man’s shoulders, the broad expanse that always seemed to be tight with awareness, ready for an impending fight, the tension in them seemed to loosen as he returned the hug.

Stiles turned away, drifting toward the displays of jewelry. He was tempted to watch the exchange longer, inane curiosity of the man who was protecting his life-- but, it just felt like an intrusion. Stiles didn't think that the man got much time off in his line of work, certainly not enough time to see his sister regularly. And, if he was right in his thinking, Derek deserved a few moments with her without an audience. The singer walked down the counter, gazing at the different styles of hand-crafted and one of a kind (so the sign claimed) necklaces. They were beautiful, some wire crafted with different charms and jewels, while others were steel and gold. Stiles wondered what process she used for some of them, but after a moment he heard his name and was pulled out of his speculations.

"Stiles," Derek said, his hand resting on his sister's back as she gazed back at the singer with her luminous eyes. It was odd, seeing Derek’s facade slip for a moment. It wasn't like he had known the man for very long or anything, but it was clear he put up a wall between himself and others. Whether this was a preservation for his line of work or just the way he was, Stiles didn't really know. He _had_ no possible way of knowing. That sort of thing came with trust and a length of acquaintance-- it wasn't a luxury that he had. What he did know now, was that the man had more facets than the steely facade that he put on in his day to day dealings. "This is Laura Hale."

Stiles flashed a broad, toothy smile, taking a few steps closer to the pair. Taking the woman’s proffered hand, the singer lifted it to his lips and kissed her knuckles, “The pleasure is all mine, milady.” 

“What can I do you for? As much as I love my brother,” Laura elbowed Derek in the side good naturedly, tilting her head towards the taller Hale. “I _highly_ doubt that this is just a social call.”

“Your pieces are... they’re amazing. Do you do all these yourself?” Stiles said truthfully, stalling for a moment as he mulled over the fact that he didn't know if Laura knew everything about her brother’s line of work and how they’d be turning one of her pieces of work into a panic button in case something was to go terribly, terribly wrong. Sliding his eyes to meet Derek’s entirely unreadable gaze, he decided to go with his gut. 

Laura nodded, turning her head to glance around the small shop. “Yep. It started off as a small shop on Etsy, things I did when I was bored and trying to... well, get away from things. I had no idea that people would actually want any of these. There were some fashion sites that have been quoted about how my stellar designs are the next big thing. Point is, when the next big thing actually becomes the next ‘big thing’.” The woman shrugged, not seeming to put off about not being a house hold name or anything. At least she didn't let the praise go to her head; that was always a good thing.

“Impressive,” The singer said with a low whistle, looking around the store in new-found appreciation. “I had some free time in my schedule and needed to grab a few new accessories for some events I’m attending soon. Derek here mentioned your shop... and, well, here we are.”

The woman’s eyebrows arched, gaze shifting over to her brother. Stiles wished he could read her well enough to know if she was surprised that her brother mentioned her store or if she just didn't believe his version of the truth. It was the problem with just meeting someone for the first time and having to learn all of their quirks from scratch.

“Well,” Laura walked back around the counter, and leaned her hands on the edge as she smirked at Stiles. “It’s not every day your younger brother comes in of the street to show off a famous singer. _Maybe_ I can leak the security footage to the paparazzi...” There was a glimmer of mischief in her eyes as she leaned forward on the counter, clearly bating her brother with the words she spoke. “I wonder... Do you think that they’d speculate that the tall, dark and brooding guy is your secret lover man? I bet that would make a real splash. Screw TMZ, it would be all over E! and MTV in a second. Jeeze,” She shook her head, “I can see the headlines now.”

"Laura," Derek said warningly, taking a step closer to the display case between himself and his sister.

The woman rolled her eyes dramatically, straightening up and placing her hips. "Don't frown so much Der Bear, you'll get wrinkles."

Stiles bit back a laugh, coughing instead into his hand as he made sure not to make eye contact with either one of the Hales. He really, _really_ wanted to know just how often Laura called her intimidating brick house of a brother something as ridiculous as ‘Der Bear’. He could imagine it being something that was endearing when they were younger and then turned into something that was more annoying during the bodyguard’s teen years, when he was struggling to figure out who he was and all of that.

"Soooo!” Laura was the one to break the silence., which was kind of what he expected since they were in her shop and Derek was basically just here to help him pick out something that he could wear everyday and it could be a panic button for safety-- if he ever needed it. Basically he was just here to let Stiles know if it was the appropriate size for the device to fit in it. Picking out something that would be cohesive to his personal style was his own job. “Stiles. What are you thinking? Necklaces? Rings? The lot? I have some new pieces that I just finished that no one else has looked at. I know how picky you divas can be.” With that, the woman straight up finished with a wink that could only be described as downright saucy. 

Stiles mocked being affronted, placing a hand on his chest. "Picky? Diva? Me? And here I thought we had a connection and you wound me so deeply..." The singer out a long, drawn out sigh, glancing over toward Derek as if waiting for him to join in on the banter; though, given the usual stoic nature of the man, Stiles wasn't exactly surprised when he said nothing. Letting out a laugh, Stiles shook his head. "In all seriousness, I'd love to take a look at your new stuff, I think I already know a few pieces I'd like to buy."

She nodded, drumming her fingers on the glass as she tilted her head to the side."Are you more impulse or mulling things over? As a shopper, I mean."

"Oh, impulse 95% of the time for everything. Buying or not." Which was mostly true, excluding things that affected his son. On that front, he put everything under a microscope. But Stiles just figured it was just part of being a parent, something that just came with the territory. It was just a tricky line between sheltering your child and being overprotective and overbearing. Stiles hoped that he was doing the right thing with Isaac. Desperately. Sometimes he even contemplated quitting his music career just to give him a real, _normal_ life. Scott talked him out of it every time, but it was always something that was in the back of his mind. 

Stiles was lost in thought for the few moments it took for Laura to step into the back room, his eyes staring down at the display case unseeing. He was only brought out of his reverie when Laura set down a small box on the glass before him. She unfolded it, showing three panels. The singer leaned forward, fingers hovering over the necklaces that were placed before him. They were all gorgeous, one that was made with what looked like gears from a clock and another that had jagged pieces of metal hanging off of the chain. But, the one he was most taken with had a swirling shape carved into the surface with three swirls. 

“Have you ever considered finger armor or a ring with a tiger eye stone in it?” Laura looked contemplative for a moment, staring into the distance. “An armor ring would definitely fit your style, very edgy but not _too_ edgy. And, as for the tiger eye, with the way you gesture and have a habit of talking with your hands the stone would definitely draw more attention to your eyes. Which, by the way, are stunning, aren't they Der?”

Stiles felt the back of his neck heat up from embarrassment, not that he wasn't used to the usual string of compliments, it was more that it wasn't said as a come on or anything. Laura was just being...observant. She was offering him advice and simply stating it as a fact. It wasn't like she was saying it just to get into his pants. 

Derek pinched the bridge of his nose, possibly regretting his decision to bring Stiles here since it clearly was causing him physical pain. Other than that, the man chose not to answer his sister and remained as quiet as possible a few feet away from Stiles. 

“No, but that’s a good idea. I’ll take all of these new ones and a few rings like you mentioned. I like the idea of finger armor, I never found one that actually fit my fingers before.” Stiles waggled his fingers out before her. It wasn't like his hands were really enormous, his fingers were long and slender. Usually with the larger sizes of that kind of ring they were thicker, not longer. Any ones he had seen before hadn't fit properly, usually it looked a little silly to him. If Laura actually had one that would fit properly, well, that was all the better.

 

After another twenty minutes in the store, Derek and Stiles bid Laura goodbye. And when they get beck into the car, Stiles didn't even feel terrible at all that he spent so much in her store. More than that, he was happy to support someone who was so clearly talented at what she did. That being said, he really liked Laura. She was effervescent and funny, she didn't hold back even with knowing how famous her client was. Maybe... Maybe he could help get her name out there. Wear one of her necklaces to Danny’s club opening or his next television appearance. Hopefully that’d help her get some buzz going and drive some sales for her.

The car was just turning off of the boulevard when Stiles decided to break the not uncomfortable silence. He turned his head, resting it on the headrest as he gazed over at the older man. “I like Laura. She seems pretty... awesome.”

If he wasn't staring at the man, Stiles would miss the muscle working in the bodyguard’s jaw before Derek turned to meet his gaze. “I can give you her number if you like.” There was a tightness in his voice that Stiles really couldn't place. Had it been wrong to compliment his sister? Wasn't that the polite thing to do? Plus, she was actually pretty amazing. That he was... Oh. Right! Derek thought that he _liked_ his sister. Which, not that he had anything against her or anything, but that was so not the case.

“Dude, no,” Stiles let out a good-natured laugh as he shook his head. “I mean, I wouldn't mind talking to her sometimes, but, I didn't mean like that. Nope. Don’t get me wrong, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with your sister. At all, but, she’s just not my type. I like her as a friend, or moderate acquaintance. Nothing else.” 

Derek tilted his head to the side, his piercing gaze unwavering as he let what Stiles say linger in his mind, possibly turning over what the singer had told him. "I wasn't sure you had a type."

Stiles absently let his eyes drift to Derek's lips then back up again in a flicker of a moment before he turned back to stare out the window. "Oh, I do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Laura? Totally cool? Want more of her? Let me know. I can totally fit it in. 
> 
> I know this has been very slow thus far, but I swear plotty things are next. I can promise since it's half written. :D AND, the necklaces he picked out, who thinks that one of them may have a symbol on it that is relevant to the whole Derek of it all? Anyone? Just, uh, throwing that out there.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, sorry about this update. It's not up to par, and it has been sitting for weeks. I know the next will be better, this is more filler. I hope you're not too disappointed. <333
> 
> Update: My lovely Trixafaerie went through and edited some of this for me. FOR WHICH SHE IS AWESOME. I suck at editing my own stuff. I usually get halfway through and go ENOUGH ALREADY. I'M DONE AND IT'S GOOD ENOUGH. THE END. So, for that she is quite awesome. Then again, she was awesome already. So... double-y awesome? From Awesome Town, capital of Awesomeland. (Okay, Cortney. Just... STOP.)


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